Batman & H-Man: Payback
by Japan Boy
Summary: A crossover with DC Comics & Toho's 'Beauty & the Liquid Human' U.S. title, 'The H-Man' : After 50 years since their execution in Tokyo, the liquid humans arise once again, & this time their hunting ground is Gotham City! Please review if read.


For actors Adam West, Michael Keaton, Val Kilmer, George Clooney, & Christian Bale, each

of whom have brought Batman to cinematic life in both the movies & on television.

For Kevin Conroy, the man who has given Batman his voice for an amazing 14 years(1992-

2006) in 'Batman: the Animated Series', 'The New Adventures of Batman & Robin', 'The New Batman/Superman Adventures', 'Batman Beyond', 'Justice League', & 'Justice League Unlimited'.

To all the countless writers & artists at DC Comics who have kept the Dark Knight as

grim & fearless in the war against crime since his debut in Detective Comics 27 in 1939.

To the loving memory of actor Heath Ledger, who portrayed the Joker in Summer 2008's 'The

Dark Knight', sequel to 2005's 'Batman Begins (Heath Ledger died from an overdose of

painkillers on January 22, 2008. The actor was only 28 years of age. May he rest in peace).

To the loving memory of my longtime friend Tony Conti, a man who not only shared his passion

of comic books with me, but had always been there for me when I needed someone to rely on

(Tony Conti died of pneumonia in February 2008. He was only 35 years of age. Rest in peace,

good friend: your friendship & the memories that we shared shall _never _be forgotten).

To the loving memory of artist Michael Turner, a man with a remarkable style as seen in the

'Supergirl' storyline in the pages of 'Superman/Batman' in 2004, among other titles(Michael

Turner passed away in June 2008 from complications relating to cancer. He was only 37).

And finally, to the loving memory of Batman's creator, Bob Kane, a man who gave the

world a character who has become a literary icon for 70 years—and counting (Bob Kane

passed away in November 1998 at the age of 83. The cause of death is unknown).

**BATMAN/H-MAN:**

**PAYBACK**

2006, 2008 by Anthony Ogozalek

**CHAPTER I**

_Chinatown, Gotham City, between Englehart Blvd. & the Dixon Docks:_

It was a rather chilly night in Gotham City, the evening temperature reaching only about 38 degrees on a crisp, clear night in the month of November, only seven days away from Thanksgiving Day. Even now, people are preparing themselves for Turkey Day with purchasing seasonal décorations, planning & readying all family, friends, & relatives who are bound to arrive when the big day finally comes by. Most importantly, the supermarkets are getting the record for the number of customers, buying every morsel of food that is essential for a Thanksgiving feast—cranberry sauce, stuffing, potatoes (whole or mashed), corn—up to & including the turkey itself, giving the markets profits which is always at its highest when the holiday season approaches at this time of the year; always the busiest, but for most people, worth the effort even if their wallets get drained of their hard-earned cash faster than a patron's bladder on the toilet after New Year's Eve once the hangover is _passé_.

Not everyone is concerned with getting their tables set & having a roll call of the scheduled guests to arrive when the big day gets here, however. In a giant warehouse located near the docks in this section of Gotham's Chinatown, a large group of people have gathered for a costume party in an attempt to extend the Halloween holiday before putting it to bed until next year. The ones to attend have received an invitation in the mail by a mysterious benefactor with no return address or additional information of any kind, other than the fact that they are gradually invited to a costume party in a warehouse owned by Wayne Enterprises in Chinatown, between Englehart Blvd. & the Dixon Docks at around 11 p.m. on the second to last Monday before the Thanksgiving weekend. Everyone who had gotten this invite was puzzled as to why the proposed 'Backbone of Gotham City' would want to hold a costume party 3 weeks after Halloween, with Thanksgiving right around the corner at that. But as ludicrous as it may be, those invited would be admitted free of charge, with no strings attached, all the food they can eat, & a chance to make their beloved city an even better place than it was, before & after the great earthquake. With these comforts in mind, they wouldn't have cared if this costume party took place on or around Valentine's Day.

The room was packed to capacity with men, women, & even some teens, all dressed in fancy costumes in all styles—some in attire of famous characters, some in appropriate fashion from other countries. Food was in abundance as promised, with bartenders at makeshift bars serving beverages to thirsty patrons in need of quick rehydration after some time on the dance floor. The inside measured half the size of an average city block, with a ceiling the height of a twelve-story building. There were eight doors, including the one the partyers had entered, & rectangular glass windows fifty feet above ground level. Decorations of orange, black, & white—ranging from streamers to balloons—were placed in excellent fashion, giving the place a feeling of Halloween even past its prime, & music from that holiday was playing from loud speakers twenty-five feet above their heads. Currently playing was 'Purple People Eater' by Sheb Wooley, followed by 'The Blob' by the group The Five Blobs, both hit songs from 1958. At the entrance, two young officers were checking the guest list, carefully acknowledging each & every person who attends, checking off each name as they give them before entering. When the last name on the list has been confirmed & marked, the two cops nod to each other & leave the warehouse, but not before one of them closes shut the entrance, cutting off the noise—music & all—like it was turned off by a simple switch.

Getting fifteen feet away, one of them speaks into a walkie-talkie. "It's done. The last patrons on the guest list are inside but good."

"Is the place secure?", a mysterious deep voice asks, sounding like an electrical version of James Earl Jones, the actor who supplied Darth Vader's voice in the 'Star Wars' saga.

"Like Fort Knox is, if not _more _so", said the other cop.

"Excellent", said the deep voice. "Phase one is complete. Leave the rest to me. You two get to the rendezvous point like we discussed. Over & out."

Without another word, the two cops head for their vehicle—a 1970s Chevy Mustang—and drive off noisily into the night, its engine growling like a hungry meat-eating dinosaur.

A man dressed as the legendary Zorro was making conversation with a woman dressed in a pink Japanese kimono robe, complete with fan in her right hand, which she waves in front of her face, painted white with her hair up like an actual Japanese female.

"Wonderful party, wouldn't you agree?", asked Zorro, brandishing his plastic sword.

"Yes it is", the robed woman said. "Only those at Wayne Enterprises would think of having an extended Halloween party in the middle of November, with Thanksgiving coming up soon. The best part about it is the free admission, & all the food we can eat."

"I'll drink to _that_!", said a man dressed like John Wayne, even sounding like The Duke as he chugs a Budweiser in a clear plastic cup in one gulp. "Though I gotta say, pilgrim, why have a Halloween party now, when people should be thinking about Tom Turkey & listening to the tune 'Alice's Restaurant' or even Adam Sandler's turkey song on their local radio stations?"

"And why us in particular?", asked a lady dressed as Cinderella. "We're clearly not employed by Wayne Enterprises. I thought these kind of parties were reserved solely for high rollers like Bruce Wayne & his ilk. Plus, why hold the party down here, of all places? A warehouse doesn't seem like the ideal place to _me_."

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth, compadre, mademoiselle", Zorro says in a suave voice, earning a grin from The Duke & a giggle from Cinderella. "An opportunity has been dropped at our doorsteps by the employees of Gotham's backbone, & it would be rather unsporting to turn down such a generous offer, as well as rude. If people like Mr. Wayne want to throw his fellow man here in Gotham a party, who are we to refuse? Live for the moment, I always say."

"Don't you mean 'Hi ho Silver?'", joked The Duke, enticing laughs from the others.

Zorro laughed himself. "Only when the night is overwith & done, my friend. Except in _this_ case, I'll be riding off into the full moon instead of the sunset."

More guffaws erupt from the little group as the Kimono-robed woman speaks. "In any case, it's awfully nice of Bruce Wayne & his staff at his enterprise to give us a joyous celebration no matter what, where, or when it takes place. Above all else, it's a nice escape from all the troubles in which Gotham City goes through on an almost regular basis—the crime, the poverty, you name it, Gotham's got it. Thank god for folks like Bruce Wayne in this town."

"So you forgive him for deserting Gotham during No Man's Land?", asked The Duke.

"Others may not, but I do. You may recall he went to Congress to get the government to go & give Gotham a second chance. He certainly couldn't do that by remaining here during that time, especially with most communications inoperative then."

"You gotta give the man credit for that, even if you were abhorrant of him for deserting the city", said Zorro. "Even though he lost that battle, it wasn't for lack of trying."

"Well said, Zorro", said Cinderella. "Even after the brutal deaths of his parents, Thomas & Martha Wayne when he was only a lad, Bruce does what he can for Gotham City, & he's done so much: he's contributed to nearly every notable cause one can think of, from the Salvation Army to preserving the rainforests & its wildlife. Many other people would no doubt have gone insane & lead a life of crime after witnessing a loss like that, but Bruce Wayne did the opposite. He _helps _his fellow man instead of causing him harm. If I ever get the chance to meet him face to face, I'd go tell him that his parents would be very proud."

"_I _certainly am", said the kimono-robed woman. "And while we're on the subject, when the billionaire playboy was sent to prison for the murder of radio personality Vesper Fairchild, I never believed for a second that Wayne committed the heinous & cold-blooded act. Anyone who had actually thought that Bruce was the culprit should be deeply ashamed of themselves, as it turned out that David Cain—an assassin-for-hire—was the _real _killer. Just because one witnesses killing happening before them as Bruce did years ago, it doesn't always mean you turn into one."

"There's something else to all this", said Zorro.

"Meaning…?", asked The Duke.

"From what I've learned of just about everyone here tonight, it's that each of us has suffered at the hands of crime bosses & other criminals from a time in our pasts. I've lost my fair Julie when two mob gangs had a shootout with each other, with her caught right in the middle."

"My sympathies, partner. I myself lost my son to a car bomb when I refused to pay protection money to a bunch of lowlifes. I would've joined him were I not as slow as I was when I promised to take him to the zoo that day. Not a day goes by that I don't wish I could have him back or be in heaven with him at this very moment."

"How terrible", said Cinderella. "How old was your son?"

The Duke looked at her with a tear rolling down his cheek. "Only eight, same age that Mr. Wayne saw his own parents gunned down."

"My sympathies in return, compadre", said Zorro.

"Ours as well", said the kimono-robed woman. "From what Cinderella here has told me, she had the misfortune of watching her beloved husband beaten on a videotape sent to her by a local crime boss, warning her that she would be next. If not for the Batman, she _would _have been. Am I right, my dear?"

"Couldn't have put it better myself", Cinderella says with a somber nod, fighting to stop herself from bursting out in tears of that painful memory. When her husband was kidnapped, they had beaten & tortured him to death, but not before forcing him to reveal the whereabouts of their residence. Fearing for her life, she went to Police Commission James Gordon & told him of the situation, who in turn relayed it to the Dark Knight. While 'he' was too late to save her husband (his injuries were too severe), he did put the perpetrators on ice & forced them out of Gotham for good. It was a small consolation to her: deep down she wanted to make those responsible for her husband's death by her own hand, but she never had the gall to go through with a revenge scheme. She regrets it even now; even if she went to Blackgate or even Arkham Asylum for the rest of her life, she would've found satisfaction knowing that _they_ had suffered as her husband did, but worse.

Instead, she's here now, dressed as one of Walt Disney's most classic characters at a party which was 2-3 weeks out of season.

Suddenly, this party doesn't seem like too much fun to her, & that feeling was beginning to spread to the other attended patrons this evening. That included young Simon Stewell, standing at one of the walls, dressed as Humphrey Bogart, complete with trenchcoat & hat. All he's missing is a cigarette hanging from his lips, lit or not.

What was a chant of cheery voices had become an echo of murmurs, all sounding like the place was converted from a party to a wake. The only thing reminding these folks that they were at a party was the music playing on the loud speakers, but that didn't catch their attention as much as it did when they first arrived. Currently playing was arguably the trademark Halloween song 'The Monster Mash' by Bobby 'Boris' Pickett. Not even a minute into the song it was when the tune ceased, replaced at first by a high-pitched noise that _did _catch everyone's attention, followed by an electronic deep voice which began addressing the people.

"Good evening, ladies & gentlemen. First, let me say thank you for coming out to this little get-together, even if my sense of following the traditional holiday is a tad 'off'." The voice allows itself a brief chuckle before continuing. "I am most pleased that everyone on my list for attending this party is accounted for & able to make it."

The costumed partyers mumble softly & look to each other in a state of confusion, not knowing the real motive behind this whole affair, let alone the identity of the individual speaking.

A man dressed as Elvis Presley in a gold suit—the same kind he wore during a concert The King did in September 1956 in New York City—thought about it, & the answer hit him almost instantly.

"Excuse me…is that _you_, Mister Wayne? Did you do all this for us?", he asked.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, my friend", the voice answered. "Bruce Wayne I am not."

"Then who the hell _are _you?", demanded The Duke.

"Who I am, for now, is unimportant. Why I invited you all here tonight, however, is of the _utmost _importance."

"Meaning…?", Cinderella pushed.

"Let's just say I am someone who can grant you all your heart's desire."

Now the patrons have caught their attention like sharks would be if chum was thrown into the water. Excited chants fill the room until one urged everyone to fall silent in order to hear what their mysterious benefactor has to offer.

"'Our heart's desire', you say?", asked a guy dressed as a pirate with a patch over his left eye." Are you talking about money & other vast riches?"

"No, my friend", the voice said. "I speak of something even _more _valuable than money in your pockets."

"Tell me—what could _that _be?", asked the kimono-robed woman.

"What you people most desperately want most of all—_payback_."

An even louder chorus of voices filled the room as people looked at each other with their curiosity at a high point.

"Pardon me", Elvis had addressed their mystery friend. "How do you know we all desire the same thing?"

"I've read all your personell files before asking you to attend tonight", said the voice. "Each of you has been met with at least one grave injustice from the criminals of Gotham City—atrocities such as being kidnapped and/or tortured, a friend/family member killed for no good reason just because they were at the wrong place at the wrong time, criminals who prey upon the lesser folks for ransoms, information, or even just because they get their jollies in such an unforgivable manner. For too long, you people & many others in this city have suffered greatly by their hands. Wouldn't it be satisfying to have the tables turned & have _them _suffer for a change—and all by _your _hands?"

Unable to contain their eagerness & joy, the people—including the ones dressed as Zorro & Cinderella—raise their fists in the air & cheer, each one grinning from ear to ear with payback on their minds. Acting from a group of partygoers to an angrily happy mob, the crowd settles down to hear what else their mystery friend has to say, if anything.

"Mister, we don't know who you are, & personally we could care less", said the pirate. "If you can help us get the scumbags who gave us our everlasting grief & pain, it wouldn't matter to us if you're John Dillinger come back from the dead to aide us! Just tell us what we need to do!"

"Your quest for absolute justice will begin shortly, once my little 'surprise' gets here", the voice replied.

The same high-pitched tone that erupted before came on again for five seconds, & then turned silent, with no music to replace it. The voice which addressed the patrons did not return afterwards, giving them the time to speak their own minds to one another.

"Now _that's _what I call a light at the end of the tunnel!", said Elvis.

"You got _that _right, partner!", said The Duke. "I've longed for the chance to get even with those responsible for taking my only child away from me, & now I'm given that very thing right out of the blue!"

"Yes!", cheered Zorro, raising his sword. "Whoever that was, he's right: we've suffered too much by the scum which infest this city for too long! It would be _sooo _gratifying if they were to pay indefinitely for their heinous acts!"

"Let's see how _they _like being preyed upon!", shouted Cinderella, throwing away all common sense, something she wished she did long ago.

The crowd cheered boisterously as the kimono-robed woman now spoke.

"Let's start with the major crime bosses who keep a tight grip on Gotham! Once we loosen it up, we can take down all the lesser scum!"

Another boisterous cheer erupts.

"Let's make Gotham City a town we can be _proud _of again!", shouted The Duke.

Another loud cheer erupts.

"Let's do what the police & the so-called 'heroes' of Gotham are afraid to do & _really _clean this town up!", shouted the pirate.

Even louder cheers erupted this time, & they kept on going until the one dressed as Elvis spots something from above.

"Hey, what the hell is _that_?", he asks, pointing up.

Everyone lifts their heads to see a spray of light green mist entering the room through vents near the ceiling at numerous areas. The mist quickly filled the ceiling portion of the room in just under one minute before heading down to where the people were, with more than a few having a look of concern (& possibly fear) on their faces. In no time, the mist surrounded & covered the people like the morning fog, but this was no ordinary fog. On the first inhalation, several people began to cough & moan violently, their eyes feeling like someone was pushing needles into them & their lungs burning as if they were inhaling lava fumes instead of oxygen. Desperate cries of help & agony filled the room almost as fast as the mist itself did, with people scrambling over to find the exits & escape their dire predicament.

"No! The doors are locked!", cried the pirate, despite the burning sensation in his lungs.

"These doors are the same!", cried the kimono-robed woman from across the room at a second pair of doors. "They're shut tight! I can't get them open!"

"Neither can we!", shouted Zorro at another set. "We're trapped!"

"Somebody help! Let us out of here! Please, for the love of God!", shouted Cinderella as she & others started pounding on the doors with clenched fists, shouting & screaming in desperation. No one from outside was there, & even if there were, there was no way they could hear their cries & pleas for help: the doors were soundproofed. Once all the doors were closed shut, you couldn't hear a pin drop from within the warehouse, much less people shouting frantically to get out.

Inside, the mist continued filling the room & became even thicker as it did, making the people no more than black silhouettes within the deadly green cloud. With the mist getting thicker, the panicked cries & pleads for help got lower & dwndled away as the patrons fell to the floor with thuds, their minds & bodies no longer able to withstand the raging heat the mist was providing. In no more than two minutes, all the loud clamors for help ceased altogether, with the mist the only noise anywhere, accompanied by what sounds like water being boiled in a pot on a stove. After another minute it became silent until ventilation fans from above started sucking up the mist & blew it all out in no time. No sounds of cheer erupted once the deadly green fog was evicted out of the room, & it was plain to see just why.

What once stood as people only moments ago were now just a pile of numerous costumes lying on the floor, the wearers gone from sight.

In a darkened room no bigger than an oversized broom closet, a lone figure watches events unfold on a small monitor, currently the only source of illumination in the whole place. This person views the mayhem from a well-placed video camera in the warehouse, no doubt put there by the figure's two 'officers' who closed (& locked) the entrance & other doors once everyone was accounted for.

When all the monitor showed were the empty costumes laying on the floor sans the owners who wore them moments ago, a pair of lips formed an evil smile, the sight pleasing the figure.

_Phase one is complete_, the individual thought. _Time to begin the nex!_

For this person, the best was yet to come.

**CHAPTER II**

_6:00 a.m., the next morning:_

The G.C.P.D. surrounded the warehouse as officers armed with service revolvers (& a few equipped with shotguns) entered through the doors, their weapons raised & ready to fire, should any or all of the perps who committed the disappearances of last night's partyers were still present. As they charged in & checked every angle & corner of the place, one officer from his/her assigned group announced it was all clear from their end, except for all the empty costumes that had remained on the floor, untouched from the night before.

In the dark, wee hours of the morning, recently returned Police Commissioner James Gordon, dressed in his traditional tannish-brown trenchcoat, brown pants, black shoes, white shirt, & red tie, was handed a fresh cup of coffee from Detective Renee Montoya, one of Gordon's most trusted allies & friends. Gordon nodded his approval & gulped the contents down in a single gulp, throwing the Styrofoam cup away once empty.

He turns to Montoya, pushing the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "So, what's the story here, Renee?"

"It's puzzling, Commissioner", Montoya began. "We received several calls in the last hour, each one stating that their friend/husband/son, & so on didn't return home from a party that was held here last night, so they got worried & called us."

"And nobody was able to find anyone?"

"Not a living soul, Commissioner", said the leader of the search party squadron, removing his protective helmet to reveal a man in his late thirties, his facial features as hard as a rock & his hair a short blonde. "The only thing my men & I _did _find inside were empty costumes, spilled beverages & food, & corroded decoratons laying everywhere."

"No sign of the kidnappers?", Gordon asked, though the answer was pretty obvious.

The squadron leader—who went by the mane of Lieutenant Rockwell—shook his head.

"The kidnappers—whoever they were—are long gone, & probably got them all holed up somewhere nice & snug."

Gordon went silent for a while, his mind contemplating every detail. _How in the hell can a group of nearly one hundred people be kidnapped like this?_, he thought. _Surely there must have been more than a few who would've been able to fight off a couple of their abductors & fled to get help. This doesn't make sense at all._

James then speaks aloud, addressing Rockwell. "Lieutenant, have your men withdraw from the area. I'll get forensics on the scene. With any luck, we'll get ourselves a vital clue as to what happened & hopefully get a positive ID on any of the perpetrators." He then turns his attention to Montoya. "Renee, get a complete list of everyone who was at this party last night & have as many officers as you can calling family & friends. Those who aren't on the phone get out on the street & have then asking questions all around town. Find out if anyone may have overheard anything."

"Right!", Detective Montoya & Lieutenant Rockwell said in unison, each heading off in different directions. As Renee gets into her squad car & drives off, Rockwell gathers up his band of officers & starts piling them up in the back of police vans. All of this is done with precision & a by-the-book stasis. In over a minute, all officers have retreated to the safety of their vehicles & have driven away, leaving James Gordon all alone.

But he _wasn't _alone.

From a dark alley, another deep voice erupts, with this one not originating out of any speakers or any other electronic. It was a voice that James Gordon was all too familiar with, although it never ceases to take him by surprise, as he never can predict when he'll show up.

"Looks like you've got a _real _mess on your hands, don't you, Jim?"

Gordon's heart skips a beat when the voice spoke, despite knowing it like the back of his hand. The one attached to it stepped out of the shadows & appeared in full view of the Police Commissioner. He stood an impressive six feet, two inches tall, a height that dwarfs Jim Gordon's five-foot-nine-inch height. He was dressed head to toe in a gray fabric suit, complete with blue boots, gloves, cape, & cowl. His eyes were a solid white, having no irises as far as Jim can see. The only place on his entire person that actually had visible flesh was the mouth, underneath the nose, & chin. Around his waist was a yellow metal belt with multiple compartments, storing many gadgets within each one. A black bat symbol was emblazoned on his chest.

Some call him the Dark Knight.

Some call him the Caped Crusader.

Some call him an urban legend.

But to Police Commissioner James W. Gordon, he's a man who has for over ten years forged an alliance with in dealing with the worst Gotham City has to offer.

Despite their mutual differences between their crime-fighting methods & occasional arguements with one another, he is a man Gordon is more than proud to call him 'friend'.

"Batman", he says calmly in spite of the little scare he got from his shadowy friend. "Yeah, I guess you can say that."

Batman stepped away from his hiding place & nearer to Gordon as he continued. "It's an absolute puzzle, just as Montoya said before. Even _I'm _stumped by this: just _how_ in the hell can a kidnapping of this magnitude happen right under our noses like this? Come to think of it, why would anyone want to go through all the trouble to abduct a bunch of innocent partygoers? What might they possibly accomplish with it, other than ransom,that is?"

"What makes you think they were all kidnapped, Commissioner?", Batman asked.

Gordon gave his masked friend a quizzical look. "How do you mean, Batman? You _don't _suppose this was an abduction?"

"Hardly, Jim. I fear that the alternative has occurred here."

"Are you trying to tell me that these people may have been…murdered?"

"Think about it, Commissioner. How else does one make close to a hundred people vanish without alerting anyone to the act being committed? If planned correctly, one can wipe out any number of persons right under the radar of the authorities."

"Any ideas on what they would use to accomplish this?"

"I'm thinking a gas of some kind—one that had a high degree of temperature, capable of melting a person with ease, bones & all. This may have to do with a thievery of some chemicals which were stolen from WayneTech only two nights ago. The heist was performed so flawlessly that even I didn't realize it until the other night, which was over six hours ago."

"Do you know what they stole?"

"All too well: deuterium, tritium, lithium, plutonium, & strontium 90. Jim, these are materials needed for the making of a hydrogen bomb."

Gordon's eyes went wide. "Good heavens!", he says with undisguised fear. "With those chemicals in their possession, they can take out the whole damn city!"

"Or wipe out the city's population with ease, like these unfortunate people were", Batman said, gesturing with his hand to the warehouse.

"Any leads on suspects on your part?"

"Two perps: Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez. Both of them worked at WayneTech, & had used their security clearance to obtain the materials needed. That's how they could smuggle the substances without tripping any alarms. When one of the maintenance clerks found out what was taken & by whom, the call went out."

"A call _you _intercepted, I'll bet."

"I was in the vicinity, yes. Unfortunately, after making a severe sweep of the immediate area, I was unsuccessful in finding either Cornell _or _Sanchez."

"Looks like they planned their escape route to a T, especially if they were able to elude even you. But try not to worry too much. I'll have Montoya to hold off phoning the victims' next of kin for now & have her get every available unit to search for both perps right away."

Batman nodded. "It's your show for now, Jim. Dawn's fast approaching, & I'll need to be on my way. I'll keep in touch."

Batman was backing away from Gordon as he spoke. When he got to 'I'll be in touch', he was already in the shadows & out of sight from Jim's view. Even now, he's not accustomed at to have been speaking to him one moment in person, & the next—he disappears without a trace. It did make Jim angry; if he said to anyone it didn't, he'd be lying to their face. But even he has to admit that the 'boogeyman' act & the costume itself has proven useful time & again of getting the chilling reaction from criminals who prey on the good people of Gotham City. That Jim respects on an average level. When he first came to Gotham City on a transference from Chicago, Gordon was uncomfortable with the lifestyle of Gotham. What was worse, he had been forced to patrol around with cops who were on the take, making them as bad as the actual scumbags they've been sworn to stop, with Detective Flass being only one of them. Jim knew it was no place to raise a family, let alone be a cop. But then came along the Batman, & that changed things: crooked cops were getting scared, criminals were being taken down (usually after a brutal conflict, with most in an unconscious state), mob bosses were getting frequent visits with strict warnings, & best of all, hope was flourishing on the streets. At first assigned to take him down for his vigilantism, James Gordon had a growing respect for the urban vigilante, probably because he wanted the same thing as his mysterious friend did, even if his methods don't always win full approval by the one-time cop from the Windy City. Since this friendship began, Gordon & Batman have had their shares of harrowing cases & tragedies together—cases such as the outbreak of a deadly virus called the Ebola Gulf-A plague, a disease that killed thousands (& almost Tim Drake, the third & current Robin), the great earthquake that leveled all of Gotham City, leaving only a few buildings left standing, & tragedies that include the crippling of Jim's daughter Barbara Gordon (who once took the mantle of Batgirl, unbeknownst to him) from a bullet fired by the Joker, the brutal death of his wife Sarah Essen-Gordon (also committed by the Clown Prince of Crime) during No Man's Land, & a host of other experiences forever burned in both their memories.

But one of the most heartfelt times in their mutual friendship was when James Gordon got shot three times in the back by an unknown assailant. Police (& the Bat-Family) first suspected it was Selina Kyle, a.k.a. Catwoman, to be the perpetrator of the crime, but it was later discovered to be a man by the name of Jordan Rich, a G.C.P.D. officer whose real name was once Jordan Reynolds. Reynolds was once a bag man for the Chicago mob when Gordon was on the Windy City's beat long before his transfer to Gotham. While there, Gordon had busted Reynolds, sending him to prison. When released, Reynolds changed his last name to Rich & fled to Gotham to become an officer of the law. Only, Reynolds didn't join the G.C.P.D. to start afresh. He was there to exact revenge on Gordon for ruining his life in Chicago & sending him to the big house all those years ago. Jordan waited for the right time to act on getting his vengeance—Jim's own birthday. His victory was short-lived, being arrested by the very people he's worked with, & even though he was released due to the lack of hard evidence to tie him to Jim's shooting, Jordan will still be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

Unfortunately, Jordan would wind up getting the last laugh out of the entire ordeal. Three bullets in the back was more than enough to make Jim Gordon give up his badge & retire, having Police Chief Michael Akins take the reigns as Commissioner. Gordon left the G.C.P.D. in good hands when he took off, but it put a strain on the Batman, for it left him feeling empty inside. Jim had given him his reasons for retiring, though it hardly gave the Dark Knight any soothing comfort.

It also gave Batman even less comfort with Akins as Commissioner. Unlike Gordon, Akins didn't feel at all comfortable with letting a masked vigilante taking the law into his own hands, in spite of the good he & his 'family' have accomplished over the years long before Akins became Commissioner. That factor was made all the more worse during the three-day gang war, which left many people dead & injured, including several officers under Akins' leadership. The reasons are unclear, but it was probably due to Akins' inability to function as Commissioner that Gordon was given that title again, coming out of retirement.

For Jim, it felt like putting on his coat, which fit comfortably.

_Take _that_, Jordan!_, Gordon thought, wanting his rival to hear his thoughts & know that it is _he _who gets the last laugh after all.

Wasting enough time reflecting on the past, Gordon heads to his own squad car—the only vehicle left at the warehouse—and heads for Police H.Q., putting his call to Renee Montoya.

The sun hasn't even begun to rise from the horizon, & already Gordon's schedule for the day was full to the rim.

_10:00 a.m., the Wayne Building:_

Bruce Wayne & CEO Lucius Fox were not happy campers. Since 8:00 this morning, both powerhouses at Wayne Enterprises have been questioned by the police, concerning the theft of highly dangerous chemicals which were hauled out from their WayneTech department—a batch of ingredients which, when combined, can either blow up the entire city or kill every person within Gotham in a matter of hours. They received the greatest shock of all when they had learned that two of their own employees pulled it off effortlessly without drawing any attention to local authorities. Even dressed in their traditional business suits—Lucius in black & Bruce in blue—both men have barely contained anger they wish to express. Bruce, truthfully, is only feigning his ignorance, for he is _already _privy to the knowledge of the theft as a certain Caped Crusader. It was merely his guise as a billionaire playboy so as not to arouse suspicion of his 'dark half', a role he has played to perfection for over a decade since returning to Gotham as a costumed crimefighter.

Still, even if he _has _known the truth on his own as Batman, he's no less irate about the theft as Lucius is.

"Look, we've been at this for two whole hours now!", Lucius fumed. "How many times do you want us to tell the same story?"

"We just want to make sure we haven't missed any details, Mr. Fox", said the first cop—a man in his thirties. "You must realize that what these two stole are very dangerous materials, not just a couple of dollars at a local convenience store. In the wrong hands, it could prove to be disastrous, & it has. Sources say that these chemicals were used to kill a warehouse full of close to one hundred people last night down in Chinatown."

"From what we understand, gentlemen", the second cop—a black man—started to say, "that warehouse is one of the properties of this company, correct?"

"It is, I'll grant you that, officer", said Bruce. "But we haven't used it in such a long time. In fact, I've merely _forgotten _that we own it. And even if we _have _used it, it would be for storing harmless materials such as parts for vehicles like planes & the like. There's no way we'd ever use any of our facilities for placing items like plutonium where they can easily fall prey into the wrong hands."

"And we definitely wouldn't hold any kind of party there either, unless it was cleared by us, which it _wasn't_!", Lucius added.

"So then, if it wasn't by anyone here at Wayne Enterprises, who had sent those people those invitations for it?", asked a third officer, a female.

"Beats me, ma'am! Perhaps somebody with a sick sense of humor! But I can assure you, none of us had anything to do with throwing a party at that place! As for Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez, they can go to Hell for all I care! Anyone who commits such a backstabbing act here at Wayne Enterprises _deserves _to go there!"

Unable to stand the literal betrayal, Lucius Fox storms out of the room but is stopped by Bruce Wayne.

"Whoa, easy there, Lucius", he says in a cool & calm manner. "I'm no happier about this than you are, believe me, but we need to tell the police everything we know so that they can get to the bottom of this & find Cornell & Sanchez as quickly as they can."

Taking a deep breath, Lucius calms down & speaks in a cooler tone than he did before. "I'm sorry, officers. It's just…I can't believe that Cornell & Sanchez would actually _do _something this heinous."

"You've nothing to apologize for, Mr. Fox", said the black officer. "Your feelings in this manner are understandable, given the traitorous nature of two of your employees. It'd be greatly appreciated if we can obtain Cornell & Sanchez's records from your files."

Lucius nodded. "Of course. Just give me a couple of minutes on the computer & I'll…"

That's when the walkie talkie on the female officer's belt came to life.

"…come in, officer Jeters."

Jeters grabs her walkie talkie & places it near her lips. "This is officer Jeters. Go ahead."

"We have good news & bad news. The good news is, we've found Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez together."

"What's the bad news?"

"They're both dead, along with two other people, both of them being females."

There was a moment of stunned silence by the trio of officers, Lucius Fox, & Bruce Wayne as they all heard the announcement over the walkie talkie, being loud enough to _be _heard by all in the room. Bruce & Lucius look at each other in shock upon hearing the deaths of their traitorous employees. Both men felt a stab of guilt in their hearts, including Lucius, who,moments ago, had wished them to go to none other that the Devil's domain for what they've done. Now he doesn't feel that way any longer, for even they didn't deserve a fate like that.

"Matter of fact, I take back about what I said of those two", Lucius said sincerely, & meant it.

"It's okay, Lucius", Bruce added. "You had no way of knowing that this was going to happen. It's a shock to all of us. We'll call their wives & fill them in on the grim details. It's the least we can do for them."

Lucius nodded again when the first officer spoke. "I'm afraid that won't be necessary, Mr. Wayne."

"What do you mean, officer?", Bruce asked,concerned.

The officer bowed his head, & raised it again. "The two women laying dead next to Cornell & Sanchez's bodies…are their wives. They just confirmed their identities as May Cornell & Joan Sanchez. Police on the scene estimate they've been dead since midnight. Their bodies were found in an alley near Moench Road by a couple of teens who were skateboarding around the area when they smelled a foul stench & checked it out."

"Cause of death?", asked Lucius, even more shocked like Bruce is.

"They were all shot & killed, one round in the head each. Officers declared that they were dead before they even hit the ground. Considering no one heard the shot or even discovered the bodies until this morning, they estimate that a silencer was used in the execution."

"Tell us, gentlemen: did either Cornell or Sanchez have any enemies that either of you know about?", asked the black officer.

"Not that we're aware of", said Bruce.

"I doubt it", Lucius adds. "Thomas & Joshua were basically the 9-to-5 types—they came in on time, did their jobs to the letter, & left for home when their shifts were done. If they _did _have any enemies, it wasn't from anyone in _this _company."

The three officers consult with each other in a huddle, keeping an eye on Lucius & Bruce as they did. The two heads of Wayne Enterprises do the same, having the room in a mini-chorus of mumbling before both groups break & face each other again.

"Thank you, gentlemen", the female officer says. "We'll keep digging into this until we find a lead on a suspect or suspects. In the meantime, if there's anything else either of you can tell us about Cornell or Sanchez, we'd like to know about it immediately, if you please."

"Absolutely", said Bruce.

"I believe their personell files will tell all", said Lucius. "Let me scrounge them up for you like I promised."

"By all means, Mr. Fox", said the black officer as Lucius heads for the elevator, but pauses just long enough to address his friend. "Bruce, I think I got this covered. Tell you what: why don't you take the rest of the day off on account of this?"

"You sure you don't need me, Lucius?", Bruce asked. "I mean, if there's anything _I _can do to help…"

Lucius smiled for the first time today. "You're a trooper, Bruce, but you did more than enough. Should anything more come up, I'll call you. Deal?"

Bruce returns the smile. "Deal."

"Go ahead, Mr. Wayne", said the first officer, as he & his accomplices head for the elevator to join Lucius. "You & Mr. Fox have been very cooperative, & we're grateful to you both for it."

"Always happy to help out Gotham's finest", Bruce complimented as the elevator bell rang & opened its double doors, allowing the three officers & Lucius Fox in. When the doors close & Bruce was all alone, he heads for the desk, picks up the phone, & dials a number.

When he speaks into the receiver, his voice changes into one he's used for more than a decade as a certain crime fighter.

"Alfred, cancel my luncheon with the Mayor. Tell him something came up which is utterly unavoidable, & that I'll reschedule next week right before Thanksgiving. Thank you, Alfred."

Bruce replaces the phone & stares out the window of his office at the city below. Just as his friend Lucius is, Bruce was stumped at this whole ordeal, even for a man with his deductive reasoning. What made Cornell & Sanchez commit an act of thievery, stealing chemicals capable of wiping Gotham out, only to be shot & killed by an unknown assailant or assailants, along with their wives? And why kill a plethora of innocent people in a warehouse which his company owns? Is the motive to discredit him & drag his good name through the mud, as ex-president Lex Luthor had done by having David Cain kill Vesper Fairchild & frame Bruce Wayne for the crime? It's a feasible reason, for whether he's Bruce Wayne _or _Batman, he has enemies lining around the block for the chance to take him down. Aside from former president Lex Luthor & Davis Cain, there was only one individual who has undeniably succeeded at bringing him down, even on a temporary basis: the hulking behemoth of a man known as Bane. Years ago, Bane's father was a convicted felon who spent the rest of his days behind prison walls in Santa Priscan. When he died, his only son took his place, as is the law there. His one & only solace was a teddy bear with whom he called Osoito, given to him by a Catholic missionary, to help him cope with the insufferable cruelties of his time behind bars like his father did. One day, the Santa Priscan military used Bane for an experiment in hopes of creating an army of super-soldiers by injecting them with a formula called Venom. Others who were tested on with the drug died, but Bane was instead gifted with near superhuman strength by injecting the serum directly into his cerebral cortex. As a child, Bane had dreams of a bat, night after night like a horrible omen that wouldn't go away until he went & faced it. And that was what he did: escaping his prison, Bane recruited a trio of felons—Trogg, a Neanderthal-like thug with strength similar to one, Zombie, who can wield knives like most people can use a pen, & Bird, a blond-haired felon with a Peregrine hawk (hence his name) he has trained to perform any deed, including kill, if necessary—and headed to Arkham Asylum to free the lunatics inside. His goal: to wear down the Batman & break him. Having deduced his secret identity of Bruce Wayne, both combatants fought within Wayne Manor, with Bane triumphing over the Dark Knight by breaking his back on his knee with a crack of bone & muscle that echoed throughout the Batcave beneath the mansion. Throwing his defeated foe down to the streets of Gotham, Bane announced his supremacy & declared himself ruler. His triumph was not to last, as it was the late Jean Paul Valley—Azrael—who donned the cape & cowl of the Batman, & dressed in battle armor, defeated Bane, sending him to Blackgate Prison.

If this is another attempt at ruining him, be it by physical force or some other means, Bruce won't stand for it in the slightest; what Bane, David Cain, & Lex Luthor did to his name—whether in Bruce Wayne or Batman's—was where the name-dragging ended.

Now it's _his _turn to start dragging back, meaning dragging criminal scum out of their hidey-holes & spewing information from them, something he more than excels at.

The bottom of this mystery _will _be gotten to & revealed, & he will be the one to do it.

Even though he's been given a leave of absence for the day by Lucius, it was still time for Bruce to get to work.

Bruce got into his black Lamburgini from Wayne Enterprises & drove over to The Ales of Justice bar, a place one can get a quick slug, either from a bottle of whiskey or from the barrel of a gun, depending on one's attitude.

It's also a place where one can obtain vital information if the right people are asked for the right price. Along the way, Bruce changed out of his blue attire for one more suited in this neck of the woods, replacing it with a pair of light grey pants, black dress shoes, & white long-sleeve dress shirt, complete with black tie. He combs his hair to the side more, dons a pair of dark sunglasses, & places a thin mustache on his upper lip to complete his 'other' disguise, one he has used for occasions like this.

It was his persona of one Matches Malone, an identity he picked up from the real McCoy after he deliberately burned himself to death in an apartment when he stayed in Gotham. Being the only living soul to know of his death, Batman took his role as his own & used it to get vital information, making it easier in obtaining it than if he did so as Batman, for as Matches, perps & the like were more willingly to pass it to him with no one ever suspecting that they were giving it to the Dark Knight himself. It was the second alias he has used since becoming Gotham's urban vigilante, one that has ben most successful for Bruce after many repeated persona failures in the past when he first started his crusade against crime.

Picking up a matchbook & placing an unlit match between his teeth, 'Matches' Malone gets out of his carafter parking it in an alley just across the street from his destination & walks over casually like he hasn't a care in the world. Opening the front door, he finds the place with several patrons at tables, some by themselves, others with a companion or two. Bartenders served drinks at the bar as a television on a wall broadcasted the news of the early morning genocide at a Wayne Enterprises-owned warehouse in Chinatown. Seeing an empty table in a far corner, Matches went over & seated himself, fiddling the matchbook with his fingers.

A waitress by the name of Bunny approached him.

"Hello, Matches. Can I get you anything?", she asked cheerfully.

"Coffee. And make it strong", he said.

"Give me a couple minutes to prepare it."

"Take your time. I'll be here awhile."

Bunny nodded & headed to the bar to prepare Matches' request. While waiting, he looks at all the faces inside the place, mostly all of which are unfamiliar with him. It could be that he does not scroll around & make a stop here during daytime hours, being a creature of the night & so forth. This gives him an opportunity to catch every face in here & memorize every detail that he sees & hears for future reference. He can always use the computer in the cave to call up profiles & the like, should he run into any of them again, day or night—a high possibility in _his _line of work.

Ten minutes have passed since Matches arrived, & so far all he's done is enjoy his coffee which Bunny has supplied him with (strong, like he asked), along with snacking on two halves of a grilled-cheese sandwich made for him by the owner, free of charge. Already finishing one half of his food, Matches was about to chow down on the other when he heard someone come in & call him by name.

"Well, well, if it isn't Matches Malone. In the immortal words of one Groucho Marx, 'fancy meeting you here'."

Matches looked to the newcomer with ease. Stepping up to him was a rotund dwarf of a man, wearing dark grey pants, black shoes, white undershirt, red tie, & black tuxedo with top hat. He wore white gloves on his hands, & in his right he holds a black umbrella with a curved tan handle. His nose was abnormally long, & covering his right eye was a monocle, a one-lense eyeglass. Between his teeth is a long cigarette holder with an unlit smoke at the end. Excluding the top hat, the man measured only five feet & two inches tall.

His name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, sometimes known as 'Gotham's Mr. Fixit'.

But to Matches Malone, he goes by another name, one he's all too familiar with as his alter-ego, having clashed with him once too often.

"Penguin", Matches says nonchalant. "What brings _you _here of all places?"

Penguin takes a seat & sits across from Matches. "To use an old cliché, 'I just happened to be in the neighborhood & thought I'd stop by'. "He pauses & points to his cigarette holder. "You wouldn't happen to have a light on you, by any chance?"

Matches pauses only for a moment before he smiles slightly & says, "Is the sky blue?"

Taking the match out of his mouth, he lights it with his fingers & offers it to Penguin, who places his smoke at the offered flame & takes a puff or two, getting it started. Inhaling, he blows out a stream of smoke, savoring the flavor his brand of cigarettes gives. Matches silently hopes to himself that Oswald would just get the worst case of lung cancer, seeing him smoking, but being quite the tough bird that Penguin is, it doesn't look likely anytime soon, much to Matches' dismay.

But Matches is here for a reason, & so he wastes no further time getting down to business.

Taking out a hundred dollar bill, he waves it in front of Penguin, who eyes it like he would a rare & precious jewel.

"For me? You shouldn't have", Oswald says, smiling.

"It's yours, Cobblepot—_if _I like what I hear from you", Matches says matter of factly.

"Well then, don't keep me in suspense, my friend. Whatever is it that you wish for me to say, I'm sure I can come up with all the details."

"What do you know about the multiple deaths at a warehouse in Chinatown? You know, the one between Englehart Blvd. & the Dixon Docks, owned by Wayne Enterprises?"

Penguin takes another drag from his cigarette before answering Matches' question.

"Only that it was done with the utmost precaution to be pulled off without alerting the local authorities or even the Bat-freak. It was a scheme so diabolical, I only wished I'd have thought of it myself."

_Go to Hell, Oswald!_, Matches thought angrily, wanting to just jump across the table & choke the life out of him but got himself under control; if there's anything new that needs to be discovered from this incident, Penguin could very well be the best source to get it from.

"What I mean is", Matches pressed, "have you received any new information of it since it happened?"

"Aside from what the local news is telling, I'm afraid I've gotten no new developments", the Penguin says. "For now, it looks like our famed Gotham News Team is the only source to get new input on this rather 'stunning' event. Out of curiosity, what's in it for you, Matches? Hoping to meet the big cheese who executed this heinous miracle & make more of a name for yourself?"

_You're half-right, Penguin, I must confess_, Matches thought to himself, but aloud he says, "I guess you could say that. Who knows? This mystery arsonist & killer might have a spot for me in his organization. Get my drift?"

"Indeed I do. But why hunt down an unknown when you can come work for me instead? I can pay handsomely, Matches. Plus, I'm well-known throughout the Gotham underworld. I have all my angles smoothed out, no one would be able to touch me—not the authorities, or even the Bat & his protégés."

"What about your famed Iceberg Lounge hotspot? Last I heard, you were more or less evicted by the one called the Tarantula."

Penguin sulked at the rebuke, despite the fact that it was true. The Tarantula had booted the Avian Antagonistout of the one place he truly called home during the three-day gang war, forcing him to take refuge in the town of Bludhaven (one-time home to Nightwing) to start afresh, only to run into two members of the Bat-Family, Robin & Batgirl. Like the young heroes, Penguin managed to escape just before it got bombarded with a living weapon during the Infinite Crisis, leaving all of Bludhaven a literal Ground Zero.

Matches took notice of Oswald's sulk.

"Am I wrong?", he asks.

"A minor setback, I can assure you", Penguin says, retaining his posture & smile. "My lounge _will _become mine again in due time. So—have you decided to work for me, Matches, or are you going to keep waving that hundred in front of me all day?"

Matches didn't yield. "So you know of nothing else about the warehouse incident?"

"Nothing any of us already knows", Penguin says, removing his cigarette holder & leaning in closer to Matches, lowering his voice a notch. "But I _do _have some rather juicy information I believe you'll find most inticing."

Now it was Matches who leans in closer & lowers his voice. "What have you got for me?"

"Before we begin, I just want to say that I'm only sharing this with you because you have spunk. Rumor has it you even loogied the Batman once here. Anyone who has _that _kind of nerve has my respect." Penguin chuckles & grins before laying it out for Matches. "Anyway, it's like this, my friend: do you recall the name of one Anton Schiavelli?"

Behind his shades, Matches' eyes grow wide with surprise. As Batman, he ran into Schiavelli shortly after getting his crusade started in Gotham. Anton was going to be a major crime figure in the city—until the Dark Knight threatened to feed him to the lions & tigers over at Gotham Zoo if he didn't pack up & leave. For years, no one has heard even a peep out of the racketeer.

Until now.

Matches Malone pulls out another hundred dollar bill to accompany the first.

"What _do _you know about Anton Schiavelli?", he asks insistently.

When Penguin filled him in on the details, he told Matches _everything_.

**CHAPTER III**

After Matches Malone handed Oswald Cobblepot the two hundreds he was offering him, he headed for his car across the street, thankfully untouched, hopped in, removed his shades & moustache, & drove off. To his side was a car phone that he picks up, pressing a button.

As before, it was Alfred who answers on the first ring.

"Yes, Master Bruce?", he says on the line.

"Alfred, I need for you to get in touch with Dick in Manhattan. Tell him I need for him to come to Gothan straight away, & have his flight arranged for tonight."

"Is there a problem, sir?"

"A bigger one than we first thought."

"Does it have anything to do with what happened at the warehouse, Master Bruce?"

"Unrelated. This is completely different from this morning's incident. I'll explain when I get to the cave. Just get that call to Dick & make the arrangements."

"Very well, Master Bruce. See you soon, sir."

The connection was cut, & Bruce drove off in silence, his mind wandering as he does. This is _not _what he needs right now: mob boss Anton Schiavelli coming back to Gotham after being expunged by Bruce's alter ego, the Batman. He hasn't even gotten close to whom the culprit was in killing the near-hundred people at his company-owned warehouse in Chinatown. As to why two of his employees, Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez, would steal highly dangerous chemicals out of WayneTech to commit the act is beyond even Bruce. It was he himself & Lucius Fox who have hired them both to begin with: when they first came to Wayne Enterprises ten years ago, asking for work, Bruce & Lucius checked their personal files. Cornell & Sanchez were honorary students in high school in neighboring Metropolis with a high degree in chemistry. The only minor infraction with their talent & skills is that they sometimes go a tad too far, i.e. they conduct experiments behind the teacher's backs without their authorization. One day, while in chemistry class, they had caused a minor explosion that hospitalized over a dozen students & their teacher. Because of their unscrupulous act, both were sent to juvenile hall as punishment for their crime. Even if no one had died & were later released from the hospital after their expulsion, neither were welcomed back, forcing them to enroll at Gotham University. When the Dean read their resume upon arriving, he was skeptical at first, but as time went on, he saw that Cornell & Sanchez were just as hard-working & determined as any of the students in his school. They even met their future wives at G.U., May & Joan. Ignoring their checkered history in Metropolis, they fell in love & married after graduation, staying in Gotham & working at Wayne Enterprises.

To Bruce, it seemed all Cornell & Sanchez ever wanted was a chance to start afresh & atone for their past errors, something Bruce can definitely relate to. Jean Paul Valley was another example, & even Selina Kyle for the most part, having put their troubled pasts primarily behind them & begin anew.

_Only that Selina is still alive & Jean Paul Valley isn't_, thought Bruce, his mind reflecting on his death when he singlehandedly brought down the order of St. Dumas, costing the one-time Azrael (& Batman) his life.

_But why would anyone wish to kill Cornell & Sanchez & both of their wives?_, he ponders. _Is it a student who wanted revenge for the incident in Metropolis? Or a teacher, perhaps? Or is this someone with his own agenda, who may have _forced _Thomas & Joshua to steal the chemicals for him, threatening to kill their wives if they didn't comply?_

To Bruce, _that _alternative was the most likely scenario. The perpetrator no doubt killed them all to prevent them from spilling any information to Gordon about the heist; the motive of it died with them. It didn't matter: whoever was responsible for their deaths & those in the warehouse, no one commits such an act of callous disregard for human life & gets away with it. Despite their minor infraction in their past, neither Cornell nor Sanchez deserved a fate like the one handed to them, much less their wives or the people in that warehouse.

No matter how long it may take, Bruce is adamant like always to find the culprit & put him in his proper place—behind bars.

He neither says nor thinks of anything else for the rest of the ride home.

_Wayne Manor:_

Bruce drives his Lamburgini in the driveway & into the garage before entering his home at the door inside, not needing to enter through the front. Walking to & arriving in his living room, a grandfather clock resides at a wall which Bruce approaches. Setting the minute & hour hands to the time of 10:47 (the time forever etched in Bruce's mind, for it was when his parents, Thomas & Martha Wayne, were shot & killed in an alleyway). With a clang, the clock opened like a door & reveals a staircase that leads down into a darkened abyss. Fearlessly, Bruce descends down the steps & reaches the Batcave. As a child, Bruce first stumbled upon the cave by accident when he fell down a well while playing in his backyard. The cave was infested by bats, an animal he had always feared when he was but four. After his first foray into crimefighting in Gotham, Bruce, dressed as a street tough, was shot & apprehended by police. Escaping their custody, he fled home & wondered just how to make his enemies fear him. Then he saw a bat at his window, & using the appearance of an animal which scared him as a lad, Bruce developed the visage of the Batman, & the rest, as they say, is history.

Bruce felt the irony: he was scared to death of bats all those years ago, & yet he uses them as a way to strike fear into the hearts of cowardly & superstitious lawbreakers. It's a way of turning fear into a profit, a variation of turning a weakness into a strength.

And for more than ten years, it worked to his advantage, & continues to do so.

As for the cave itself, Bruce used _that _to aide his appearance. With Alfred's help, he styled his underground lair built underneath his home & fixed it with computers, vehicles, & other vital crimefighting equipment. When the great earthquake hit near the turn of the century, the Batcave was trampled with Wayne Manor above, almost burying Bruce, Alfred, & Harold (their late mute mechanic) along with them. This rebuilt Batcave is now a multi-level (seven in all) underground sanctuary, complete with updated vehicles & equipment, including holographic displays, elevators & ladders for access to all levels, & upgraded maps of new & old Gotham, plus updated computer files of all criminals, & then some.

Going over to the Central Computer Terminal, Bruce sees his blue & gray Batsuit resting on his chair, earning a smile from his lips.

_Good old Alfred, always supplying me with my needs_, Bruce thought as he gets out of his current attire & dresses into the persona he has made for himself. Putting on everything except for his mask, Bruce sits down in his chair as Alfred emerges from the elevator, the door opening with a _ping_.

"Welcome home, Master Bruce", his faithful butler says, dressed in gray pants with black stripes, shoes, black tux, white shirt, gray tie, & white gloves. He stands six feet tall, measuring almost equal in height with his master, with a crop of black hair on the sides & back of his head & bald on the top, sans a few strands. He sprouts a thin moustache on his upperlip, & has a dashing set of blue eyes which any woman would go ga-ga for.

"I took the liberty of informing Master Dick from Manhattan & arranged for his flight at JFK Airport as you requested, Master Bruce", Alfred continues, approaching the podium. "His flight should have him arrive at Archie Goodwin International Airportbetween the hours of 9:00 & 10:00 this evening."

"Thank you, Alfred", said Bruce. "From what I've been told by Oswald, I'm going to need an extra pair of hands."

"You'd mentioned a bigger problem than the one reported this morning, sir. What did that foul Penguin said that has you so ruffled?"

Alfred now stood by his master as Bruce turns his head to him. "Alfred, do you recall the name Anton Schiavelli?"

"The small-time mob boss who wanted to make himself a big name here in Gotham?"

"The very same. As Matches Malone, Oswald informed me that Anton is heading back to Gotham City for another go-round, this time with three others. He says they wish to create an empire & take a toehold on Gotham's underworld as Roman Sionis, a.k.a. Black Mask, had done once."

"Did Cobblepot mention Anton's partners in crime, sir?"

Bruce turns back to the computer screen, calling up a file of Schiavelli. "No, he didn't. I don't believe even _he _knows who they are, or he would've relayed that information. All Oswald _does _know is that Anton will arrive tomorrow night along with his cohorts. Exact time & destination of their arrival is unknown, so Dick & I need to be on strict alert."

"I must admit, Master Bruce, to being quite surprised in hearing of Schiavelli's return", says Alfred. "If I remember correctly, sir, you persuaded Anton to take a permenant leave of absence from our fair city, after you were 'generous' enough to show him a tour of the zoo & some of its exhibits."

"Apparently I didn't make it quite clear enough last time we crossed paths. This time, I'll see to it that he & his cohorts get out & _stay _out."

"With the magnitude of this new peril, sir, it might be advisable to call in a few more reinforcements to help stem the situation. Shall I get in touch with Master Tim?"

"No can do, Alfred. Currently, Tim is on a mission with the Teen Titans & may not be back until Monday if all goes well."

"What about Miss Cain, sir?"

"We'll keep her on reserve. If things spiral out of control, that's when we'll call for her. In the meantime, I'll see if I can get any more leads on Anton's arrival, or who his cohorts are."

"The Penguin didn't tell you everything, sir?", Alfred asked as Bruce places his mask over his face, completing his Batman persona & rises from his chair.

"He did, Alfred", Batman said. "Anton probably didn't tell Oswald the whole nine yards because he doesn't trust him entirely."

"That, in itself, is an understatement,sir", Alfred says, only half-joking. "Is there anything more I can do as you make your evening rounds, Master Bruce?"

Batman heads to the elevator as he spoke. "Gather the list of names who were killed in the warehouse incident. With any luck, we might see something no one else has spotted which might give us a clue as to who would want those people dead."

"What if there _are _no clues, Master Bruce? What if this was a random act of violence, & no more?"

The elevator doors open & Batman steps in, facing his friend. "There's a motive to this, old friend. There's _got _to be. I just need to find it."

"Good hunting then, Master Bruce", Alfred concluded as the doors close, making Batman vanish from sight. The elevator takes the Caped Crusader to Sub-Level 4 to take the Subway Rocket which travels to Downtown Gotham, a handy vehicle designed & built by Harold & first utilized by Jean Paul Valley during his brief stint as the Dark Knight. With navigational & cloaking systems & jet propulsion, this bullet train can get Batman to his acquired destination in mere minutes without having to worry about being picked up by the GTA's (Gotham Transit Authority) radar.

Climbing into the cockpit, Batman starts the ignition, & with a thunderous roar of the engine, speeds off into the tunnel—traveling almost as fast as, well, a speeding bullet.

In ten minutes, Batman reaches his destination & immediately starts his quest on hitting the local pubs & pool halls, getting the attention of the residents—all of which are none too happy to see him. In each place the Caped Crusader enters, it always ends up with patrons getting all their asses kicked every which way to Sunday (which they'll probably be out cold until), & end up spilling their guts in answers to Batman's questions.

Unfortunately for the Dark Knight, none of the lowlifes he's encountered tonight know of any further information about either the warehouse incident or the arrival of Anton Schiavelli, let alone his companions with whom he'll be partnering with in an attempted takeover of Gotham's underworld any more than Oswald Cobblepot does. He _had _thought about paying Penguin another visit at the Ales of Justice pub to pry more out of him, but after studying his eyes & tone of his voice when Oswald spoke to him in his guise as Matches Malone, Batman saw (& knew) that the Penguin was telling the truth. Therefore, a trip to the well-dressed bird-lover would be a complete waste of time, something he does not have the luxury of.

In downtown Gotham, he has another important place to make a stop at, but it isn't another bar or pool hall.

_G.C.P.D. Headquarters:_

Detective Renee Montoya stood at attention at Jim Gordon's desk in his office, with the Commissioner himself parked in his rolling swivel chair. For most of the day, she & her troops of officers have uncovered nothing new of the warehouse incident in any aspect, & witnesses were of no help to the Gotham P.D.; not because they were uncooperative, but because no one either saw or heard any new developments since it happened.

Hearing Montoya's report, Gordon sighs a heavy sigh.

"You've had all day to talk to the locals, Renee, & still came up with nothing?",he asked.

Montoya shook her head. "We asked them thoroughly with a fine toothed comb, Commissioner, but no one had any answers for us. I wish it were different, sir, really I do."

Defeated, Gordon nodded. "I know you do, Montoya. It's all right. Do you have a list of the victims yet?"

"Yes sir, we do. It's been compiled about a half hour ago."

"Good. Get on the phone & start calling the homes of the deceased. We should at least inform their families of the outcome. It seems the least we can do."

"Right away, Commissioner", Renee said & headed for the door. Once she exits Gordon's office, the Police Commissioner was alone once more.

Or so he thinks.

"The warehouse incident is only part of our problems, Jim."

Again Jim's heart skips a beat upon hearing that deep, eerie voice from the shadows. Stepping into view, Batman approaches the Commissioner.

"After all these years, & I'm _still_ not used to that", Gordon says softly before speaking at his normal tone, facing his friend. "I don't suppose you've any better news about it to tell me?"

"Sorry, Jim", Batman said. "_I'm _just as in the dark about it as you & your people."

"Perfect. Whoever committed this slipped through _all _our fingers with no leads, especially with Cornell & Sanchez shot & killed with their wives, giving us a literal dead end. Now we have a madman with the ability to wipe out this city and/or its population, & _his _identity is just as much a secret as yours."

"I don't think that's his intention, Jim."

"What makes you say that? Surely we would've heard something from him by now—a phone call for ransom, _anything_."

"That's just it, Commissioner. With no contact to you, the killer might have already done what he's accomplished with the stolen chemicals from WayneTech. Now all we need to know is, aside from his identity, what he could hope to profit by murdering innocent civilians at an out-of-season party late at night."

"But something else has come up, you said, unrelated to this?"

"That's the main reason I'm here. Does the name Anton Schiavelli ring any bells for you?"

Gordon's eyes widened a bit. Anton _does _ring a bell for the Police Commissioner. It was shortly after he arrived in Gotham & Batman began his crusade on the criminal underworld, giving them a message to fear the night. While Gordon & Batman had been at odds with each other due to their method differences, they had reconciled & agreed to help one another in driving the small-time (but highly dangerous) racketeer out of Gotham: Jim & his squadron rounded up the underlings as Batman went after the man himself. A visit to the zoo was all Anton needed to be convinced to pack his bags & leave when the getting was good.

Knowing he was back made Jim's heart pump harder not with fear, but anger.

"_He's _back in Gotham? Wasn't it you that made him go take a leave of absence from this city?."

"He's braver than I gave him credit for, & just as stubborn", said Batman. "He's coming back tomorrow night along with three others to form a new grip on the Gotham underworld. An allegiance like that could cause another open gang war if things get ugly, which I'm surmising it _will_."

"Or cause a _worse _gang war than what we suffered. Lord knows, we still haven't completely recovered from the _last _one, even with Black Mask in prison. Any idea on who his subordinates & partners-in-crime are?"

"No clues, Jim. I've asked around this part of the neighborhood for answers among other sources, but came up empty. Even the main source I asked earlier doesn't know. Either the criminals in this town don't trust one another as much as they used to…"

"Or they're deliberately doing it to throw even _you_ off their trail", Gordon finished for him, a statement which may not be entirely untrue. Being in action for over ten years is more than enough time for an individual to study Batman & see how he operates. The vile villain Bane has done it, even though he only knew the Caped Crusader in nothing more than his dreams, & from thousands of miles away. It was how he was able to defeat him during their first horrible encounter some time ago. Now the hometown criminals are displaying the same kind of tactic to throw him off-balance, making his task more difficult.

Batman's silence concerns Gordon.

"Something wrong, Batman?", he asks.

Batman smiles a little. "Not at all, Jim. I'll continue searching for answers of Anton's willing companions. If there's any light to be shed on this situation, we'd better find it quickly—on _both_ cases."

"With the sordid news you've just relayed to me, I can concentrate more officers on keeping a lookout at every major transit station & at the airport for Anton & his men, while still keeping on the trail of the genocide killer, aside how cold it currently is. Good luck on your behalf, Batman. I think we're _both _gonna need it."

Halfway through his statement, Gordon took his eyes off Batman to go through papers placed on his desk by Renee Montoya when she came in. When he turned in Batman's direction once again, he wasn't there anymore—disappeared like a wraith that came & went. That was one aspect of their alliance which James W. Gordon doesn't fully approve of; one moment he's there, feeding him tidbits of vital information, & the next he's vanished, leaving him wondering if he even heard his words or not.

Nevertheless, he said he wished Batman luck, & he meant it.

It was true, too—on _this _particular caper, both the Dark Knight & the police _will _need it.

_11:30 p.m., the Batcave:_

Batman returns to his place of solitude underneath Wayne Manor, finding Alfred tidying the place & keeping maintenance of things (as usual). His further venture in finding new tidbits were no more successful than it was when he first started in Downtown Gotham before seeing Gordon at Police H.Q.. He was in a total information blackout about both Anton Schiavelli's scheduled takeover & of the warehouse incident, & he doesn't like it at all. In order to put an end to threats to Gotham City, he first needs to get clues that will lead him to his quarry(ies), & he's had no luck in finding them on this than the Three Little Kittens who lost their mittens. Even with all the crime-fighting tech at his disposal, he's no closer to solving either case than he was when it all started.

Since some people say he's part Sherlock Holmes, Batman might as well get a bloodhound & magnifying glass & look for clues then, with Alfred as his Dr. Watson.

"Master Bruce", said Alfred as Batman appears at the elevator when the doors open on the main floor of the cave (150 feet above sea level). He steps out & removes his mask from his face, revealing the unhappy features of Bruce Wayne strewn across. He walks calmly to the main computer terminal & plops down in his chair, barely acknowledging his butler's presence.

"I take it the melancholy look upon your face means all did _not _go well this evening, sir", Alfred says, coming to Bruce's side.

"As always, you state the obvious, Alfred", said Bruce in a disappointed tone. "Hours of interrogating the scum in this town brought me bupkes. Even Gordon & his people have no further leads on the warehouse genocide. As for Anton Schiavelli, I can't even make a move on him until he shows up tomorrow night."

"You _have _told the Commissioner of his arrival, yes?"

"I have. He'll be stationing his people at all transit terminals & at the airport to keep close tabs on him once he gets here. _If _he shows at any of them."

"'If', sir?"

"It could be that Anton is _expecting _to be surveyed at these areas by the authorities. He'll try to arrive by some other means less conspicuous."

"So what do you propose to do to prevent his arrival, sir?"

"Difficult as it is to admit, Alfred, we'll have to _allow _Anton to enter Gotham. Only then can I find out who his accomplices are. I just need to know at what time & where he'll hold up once he does."

"That's a risky strategy, sir, especially when dealing with a racketeer like Schiavelli."

"It's the best option right now, Alfred. At this moment, Anton holds all the cards."

"Do you suppose, sir, that Schiavelli could be the one behind the incident in Chinatown?"

"It _has _run through my head, I must say. An operation as heinous as that _could_ be orchestrated from beyond city limits as well as within."

Suddenly a new but familiar voice echoes in the Batcave.

"If that really _is _the case, then we would have our work cut out for us, wouldn't we?"

Bruce & Alfred turn to the staircase to see a young man at a height of five feet, ten inches tall, with blue eyes & a head of black hair. He was dressed in a full-bodied black suit, having a blue strip on his arms & across his chest & behind his back. His point of origin is similar to Bruce's own: after his parents—known as 'The Flying Graysons'—were killed during a performance at Gotham's Haley Circus when he was young by racketeer Tony 'Boss' Zucco, Bruce Wayne had taken him in his care, giving him extensive (& often rigorous) training, donning a bright green, red, & yellow costume, taking the name Robin. In his new guise, he formed a group called the Teen Titans, the first members being him, alien princess Starfire, Kid Flash (Wally West), Aqualad (Tempest), Beast Boy, Cyborg(Victor Stone), Raven, Jericho, & Wonder Girl (Troia), he had later lead the group the Outsiders (a team Batman himself had created) in a new identity.

His fighting skills rating second only to Batman, he is Richard 'Dick' Grayson, the first Robin, now known as Nightwing, an identity by Superman after a mysterious hero of Kryptonian legend.

"Good evening, Dick", said Bruce. "When did you get in?"

"I arrived at the airport at five minutes to ten & called Alfred to come get me", Dick says.

"I gave Master Dick a quick rundown on the recent events, sir", Alfred chimed in.

"Thank you, Alfred. I knew you would", Bruce praised.

"So what do we do in the meantime? Play the waiting game?", asked Dick, although he most likely knew that wasn't true.

"Not likely. I'm sure there are other matters in the city that need our immediate attention."

"With Tim on a Titans mission, should we summon Cassandra?"

"Not right now, but as I told Alfred, we'll keep her on the sidelines. Tonight, it's just you & me. Let's go."

"Crime waits for no one, huh?", Dick joked with a smirk.

Batman gave no indication of listening. Instead, he got up & replaced his mask over his face.

Sighing & putting on his own mask, Nightwing followed his mentor to the elevator without a word.

_Same old humorless Bruce_, Nightwing thought as the doors opened & they stepped inside, leaving Alfred alone in the cave—again.

No sooner did the Dynamic Duo (a phrase they were once called as Batman & Robin) flee into the city streets to patrol than they get word of a disturbance, one that lurked at the Upper East Side of Gotham. The disturbance called for a shootout between two rival gangs—the LoBoyz & the Street Demonz—two gangs that have been at odds with each other before, during, & after No Man's Land. On opposite sides of the street, the feuding gangs fire their fully automatic weapons at anything & everything, including a couple of innocent civilians who had the utmost misfortune of being at the wrong place at the wrong time. The bloodied, bullet-riddled bodies of men, women, & even a few children lay in blood pools as building storefronts & parked vehicles which both sides take shelter behind, although one or two not fast enough catch a bullet in the head & fall to the sidewalk, lying motionless.

"Death to the LoBoy trash!", shouted the Street Demonz leader, a bandana-wearing black man in his late teens with an M-16.

"Send those S.D.s to the grave!", shouted the leader of the LoBoys, a muscle-bound skank in a leather jacket, firing twin Uzis.

Turning the corner at breakneck speed, the Batmobile races in & stops dead in the middle of the bullet barrage, carefully avoiding the bodies lying on the street even amid the chaos.

"What the hell…!", shouted a Street Demon.

"It's the Bat-freak! Fill his ass full o' holes!", shouted one member of the LoBoyz gang. Not taking their fingers off the triggers, both gangs turn their full attention to the new arrival, forgetting their vendetta against each other for the time being. If there's one thing in Gotham City that all lawbreakers have in common, it's their unlimited loathing of the Batman & anyone associated with him. Batman & Nightwing sat comfortably & safely within the Batmobile as bullets bounce off the exterior harmlessly, sounding as if it was raining heavily outside, doing no damage whatsoever, not even to the steel-belted tires.

"Let me guess. We wait until they're dry?", asked Nightwing.

"Then I tackle the Street Demonz, while you handle the LoBoyz", Batman said, plain & simple.

The shooting went on for two minutes before it began to slow down to just a couple of hits & finally, there was no more pinging to be heard.

_God, I thought they'd _never _run out!_, Nightwing thought.

"Now!", Batman said, opening the vehicle's canopy as he & Nightwing literally flew out of their seats & threw themselves at the feuding gangs; Batman went over to the left side to take on the Street Demonz & Nightwing went to work on the LoBoys. The former crimefighter uses nothing more than his bare fists to battle his adversaries, while the latter grabs his twin Escrima sticks from his back & uses them to knock his opponents down, combining it with his acrobatic maneuvers he's used when performing at Haley's Circus. Batman & Nightwing keep the pressure up on both gangs, no matter how many times they get back up & charge them.

The battle took place just inside of three minutes, with the Street Demonz members totally out cold while the LoBoyz gang were dazed & confused but conscious.

"LoBoyz are down & accounted for", Nightwing said, watching the group like a hawk does a mouse. "You?"

"Street Demonz won't be a threat to anyone for a while", Batman replied. "We'll let Gordon & his people take both gangs into custody while we…"

"_Eat these, ya lousy freaks!_", shouted a voice from one block away. Around the corner leading to a blind alley, two young men—barely out of their teens—appear in plain view as Batman & Nightwing turn their attention to the newcomers, ignoring the incapacitated gangs they had just dealt with, even when the LoBoyz dash into the alley to their left at full speed, shaking off the beating Nightwing gave then.

The heroes knew the LoBoyz were making a break for it, but they're forced to pay them no mind, & for good reason—the two new arrivals were holding portable rocket launchers!

And they had the crimefighters dead in their sights!

Batman & Nightwing were already on the move when the rocket launchers were fired in unison, sending a missile streaming down the block at high velocity like angry comets. The missiles struck where the heroes stood only a second ago, exploding with such force that they were sent flying down the street, hitting it hard. The blasts also took out a chunk of the block, shattering storefronts, pavement, sidewalk, vehicles, & unconscious Street Demonz, blowing the latter into bloody & burned limbs that get splattered all over.

Batman didn't know how long he was out for, as his vision went dark after hitting concrete. What he _did _know was that he was still alive, reminded by the pain & aches he felt all over his body. Brushing it aside, he struggled to his feet to try & find his partner.

"N-Nightwing?", he says, fighting to get the name out.

"H-Here", he says, being six feet away from his mentor. Like Batman, Nightwing strains to get back on his feet, his muscles aching as he did.

"Are you okay?"

"Aside from feeling like Frankenstein after being granted life? I guess I'll live. Who _were _those guys?"

"Considering that your LoBoyz prisoners rushed out just before they struck us with those 3.5-inch calibers, it's a good guess they were part of their group."

"And now they've gotten clean away, destroyed public property, & literally blew away their Street Demonz rivals. Great."

"As bad as this was, we were lucky enough to have survived."

Nightwing nodded. "And I suppose we should be grateful that those 3.5-inch calibers only fire one shot. If they were capable of shooting two at a time, things might've been _much _different than they are."

"And that they only _had _one shot. More than one, we'd be with the Street Demonz at this very moment."

"Yeah. All over the place. So what now?", Nightwing asked, when police sirens filled the air.

"We'll let the authorities handle things here", Batman replied, pressing a button on his utility Batmobile's headlights shined as it roared to life, scratched in several places, but otherwise operating fine. Approaching the duo, it stopped short just six inches from the Dark Knight & opens its cockpit. Batman & Nightwing get in as fast as their aching selves will let them, & they race off away into the night, the Batmobile's tires screeching.

Even at one minute past midnight, the evening was still just beginning.

Several blocks away from where the bazooka twins thought they laid waste to the Batman & his partner, the two bazooka boys meet up with their escaped companions—the ones who were under Nightwing's watchful eye—in another dark alleyway and shout complimentary cheers as to not only eluding the costumed heroes, but believing that they were obliterated along with their Street Demonz foes.

"Yeah! Didja see those costumes freaks try to skedaddle when they saw us with these babies, Frankie?", said the first bazooka guy.

"I sure did, Johnny!", Frankie says. "They were trying to make like The Flash, but they were _waaay _too slow! Ha ha!"

"What a night!", said one of the escapees. "Not only do we do away with some Street Demonz garbage, but we also got rid of the big bad Batman & one of his members! _There's _something to tell the guys, eh?"

More boisterous cheers & laughter erupts from the surviving LoBoys.

"So, now that we've gotten rid of the Batman & his junior partner, where do we go from here?", asked a LoBoy in a brown jacket.

"Good question!", said another LoBoy. "So many possibilities, so little time!"

"Gotham City is our oyster, boys!", Johnny proclaims. "The Bat & his friend are toast, & the cops are small potatoes compared to our fighting prowess! We'll gather all the LoBoyz & wipe out the Street Demonz once & for all! Then we'll start hitting the local banks, jewelers, & everywhere else & make this town LoBoyz Central!"

Loud cheers emerge from the mouths of the gang members, raising their fists in triumph, all with a firearm.

"Once we head back to our hideout", Frankie says, "we'll spread the word to the rest of the boys! And then…"

Frankie kept on talking as one LoBoy—a 19-year-old in a dark purple jacket with no hair—takes a couple of steps away from his flock to listen for any sounds of unwanted visitors, namely police or any other member of the Bat-Family; just because they believe to have wiped out the big Bat & one member, it doesn't mean they've won against them entirely, not with about half a dozen more out there waiting for them.

Suddenly, a sharp stabbing pain hits the juvie in the ankle, & he barely manages to suppress a cry of anguish. Grabbing a Baretta from the back of his pants, he points it to where his pain is & fires two shots that ring out, echoing the alley & getting his gang's attention.

"Sal! What the hell are you doing? You gonna give us away, you dumb shit!", Johnny snaps.

No sooner than Johnny was finished with his mini tirade at Sal when the latter emits an inhuman scream of agony that was about as loud as the gunshots were.

"Sal?", Frankie asks, his tone more of concern, unlike Johnny's a moment ago. Then a most horrible sight befell their eyes: Sal began shrinking down & literally _melting _away before them. Like a candle being cooked over an open flame, Sal dissolved to the ground, his physical form going from solid to nothing in seconds. When Sal was gone from view, the horrified gang only saw his clothes & gun left laying on the ground—along with something else.

"Look there! What the hell is _that_?", said a LoBoy, pointing to a now-glowing puddle of a blue-green fluid of some kind. This weird substance suddenly starts to rise from the ground up to a height of an average-sized man, in the shape of one. Its glow illuminates the immediate area & the looks of utter fear on the faces of the LoBoyz gang.

"What the shit _is _that, man?", asked a terrified black LoBoy.

"Who fucking cares? _Shoot it_!", Frankie barks, the first to regain his bravado & points his weapon. The others finally get the nerve to do the same, & soon everyone was blazing their newly reloaded guns like they did before to the Street Demonz, except this time their bullets were doing no physical damage of any kind, passing through the humanoid thing with ease. For all the good it's doing, the LoBoyz may as well be shooting at a giant wad of living Jell-o.

So concentrated on the creature in front of them, the panicked LoBoys hardly saw several other liquid humanoids emerge from behind. They only had a second or two to acknowledge their appearance before the creatures attacked the gang members, throwing themselves at them & covering each person. The sounds of shooting all ceased & were quickly replaced by high-pitched screams of pain & terror in a chorus of horror. If there was anyone in the immediate area, they would be witnessing the gang members' flesh & bones being eaten away & dissolving in a matter of moments, with clothing & firearms dropping to the ground, as they are the only shred of physical evidence to convince anyone that the LoBoyz were ever even here.

After dissolving & killing the gangsters, the living liquid humanoids stand in all their glory, the eerie blue-green light they emit lighting the alleyway like fluorescent bulbs. Some slowly turn & twist their bodies, surveying the area as if they landed on another planet. Sirens blare in the far distance, & the liquid creatures begin to shrink down to an actual liquid before making their way to a storm drain at the end of the alley & in the street, with no living soul in sight, sans a few passing cars who don't even pay no mind to the strange flowing liquid as they drive by.

Beneath the storm drain, a blue-green glow flickered for a few seconds before disappearing altogether.

**CHAPTER IV**

It was a half cloudy day in Gotham City, with the sun peeping through at times to help keep people warm on a chilly day, the temperature reaching no higher than 40 degrees. It reminded the citizens that they were in the month of November, with Thanksgiving right around the corner in only six more days, being Friday late morning & all. The Ales of Justice club had its patrons getting its regulars at this hour, some having their shot of the place's popular brand of whiskey, even before noon.

Bruce Wayne headed there at just a half-hour before twelve, dressed again in his persona of Matches Malone. This time his attire was in a red business suit, matching shoes, white socks & undershirt, & red tie. His car—a Ferarri—was also red, & he parked it in a different place than last time, which was right in front of his destination. Since Matches Malone has had no trouble during his previous visit to the Ales of Justice, there's no reason for him to park at a distance & arouse suspicion.

Exiting his vehicle, Matches enters the club with hardly any problems from his limbs, considering the experience of being on the business end of a 3.5-inch caliber bazooka he & Nightwing received the other night. As luck would have it, most of the night was slow after their run-in with the LoBoyz & Street Demonz gangs giving them both the chance to take it easy.

A good six hours rest & painkillers don't hurt either.

Looking around, Matches sees a lot of familiar faces from his previous stay, but there was only one face he was particularly interested in seeing. Sure enough, he was sitting at the exact spot from last time: it was Oswald Cobblepot—the Penguin—himself, dressed in his traditional tuxedo & top hat, monocle, cigarette holder (with a lit smoke on it), an umbrella in one & a cell phone in the other, engaged in what seems to be a deep conversation. Every instinct tells Matches that the Penguin was speaking to his main quarry.

There was only one way to be sure if he is.

Walking towards Oswald casually, ignoring the other patrons, Matches catches the eyes of the Penguin, & gets waved over by the Avian businessman with a gesture from his umbrella hand. Taking a seat across from Oswald, Matches calmly sits down as Penguin finishes his talk on his cell phone.

"…then you'll highly consider it? I'm in your debt. In fact, I'd like to promote a dear friend of mine to a position in your organization, & he just walked in to join me. Shall I put him on for you? No? Very well then, it can wait until _after _we've talked in person. See you soon. Good day."

Penguin closes shut his cell phone & pockets it.

"Ah, Matches Malone", he says greetingly. "I'd ask for a light, but I'm afraid someone beat you to the punch this time, my boy."

Penguin chuckles briefly at his little joke, getting no response from his friend except for a question.

"Who was that on the line, Oswald?", Matches asked, his serious expression readable even behind his sunglasses.

"Right to the point as always, huh? I like that. I've been speaking to none other than our favored guest Anton Schiavelli. He tells me he's just arrived via 18-wheeler, smuggled in to avoid any 'problems with authority', if you will."

_I _knew _it!_, Matches thought. _Gordon & his people will be waiting at every transit port for hours on end, with no results. Anton's more clever than I've credited him for, even as a small-time hoodlum. No doubt his accomplices have used the same method of getting in Gotham._

"Did he stay where he'll be staying at?", Matches asks.

"I can't tell you that, but I _can _say that he'll soon be in as Gotham's top-ranking crime lord once things are set up & underway."

_Not if _I _have anything to say about it, Oswald!_, Matches thought but said aloud, "You mentioned a position for me in his organization. What exactly did you mean by that?"

"A position you excel at, my friend—undercover surveillance", Penguin says. "You'll snoop around, get juicy tidbits from wherever, & report back to Anton on a daily basis. With your talents, nothing will go unnoticed from Schiavelli, from an attack on his person to anyone foolish enough to mess around with his shipments. He can make your wildest dreams come true, Matches—he can offer you wealth, women, a building of your choice to own, or maybe even a whole _area _of Gotham, should your services & loyalty be to Anton's approval."

"And is that why you're hooking up with Schiavelli, Oswald? I always believed that you were a man who went into business for no one but yourself."

"Good business is where you find it, I always say. It's a chance to take back what was taken from me during the three-day gang war, with some modifications added, of course. But make no mistake, Matches—I'll _still _be my own boss, even under Anton's watchful eye. So, what do you say, my friend? Are you in?"

"I'll…consider it. Tell you what: if nothing happens to Anton in the next 24 hours, tell him he's got himself an undercover man. Deal?"

The Penguin looks at Matches as if his nose grew like Pinochio's. Then he smiles. "Rest assured, Matches. _Nothing's _going to happen to Anton."

"You're forgetting about the infestation which Gotham City is known for. Get my drift?"

"The Batman & his protégés will no longer be a problem once Anton is in control of things here in Gotham."

"So you say", Matches said before checking his watch & rises from his seat. "I need to get going, Oswald. I have other urgent business to deal with. Same time tomorrow?"

"That would be fine with me. Think hard about my proposal in the meantime, Matches: opportunities like this only come once in a blue moon. I'd much rather see you _with _Anton than _against _him, the latter of which you wouldn't want."

"I'll try to remember that", Matches said, turning & walking out.

"Until next time, then!", Penguin shouted at the retreating Matches Malone.

Matches gets into his red Ferarri & pulls away from the Ales of Justice club, getting on his car phone (which each of his vehicles has) & dials a number. Like last time, it's picked up & answered on the first ring.

"Yes, Master Bruce?", Alfred said on the other side.

"Is everything ready for tonight, Alfred?", Bruce asked.

"Indubitably, sir. I took the liberty of preparing your 'evening suit', all cleaned & poised for the evening's meeting with Mr. Schiavelli. Has Penguin given you info as to where Anton will be holding up, sir?"

"No, Alfred, he hasn't. He'll be meeting with Anton later this evening—only he isn't exactly going to _make _it there."

"What will Master Dick be doing in the meantime, sir?"

"I'll pay Anton a visit & get the names of his accomplices first. Afterwards, Dick will have his choice of doing the same. Is he around?"

"Not at the moment, sir. Master Dick wished to pay his parents a visit at their gravesite this morning. It's been some time since he's had the opportunity."

"Understandable, Alfred. Fill him in once he returns so that he's ready when we make our move. I'll be in touch."

"Will do, sir."

The connection was cut when Bruce places the phone back on the receiver. So Anton _did _get in the city inconspicuously right under Gordon's watchful eye, like he surmised. So far, the only one outside of Schiavelli's squadron to know of the crime boss' whereabouts is the Penguin, & that's where he'll start once the sun goes down, which will be in five hours from now since Daylight Savings Time went into effect days ago.

All Bruce needs to do now is wait.

For him, nighttime can't come fast enough.

_6:00 p.m.:_

Batman had a few minor but no less dangerous crimes to deal with before paying his scheduled visit to Penguin; first, he had to attend to a mugging in progress at Dillon Avenue, then he raced to stop an attempted burglarly & rape of a young woman in an apartment complex on Murphy Avenue, & finally there was a thwarting of an old-fashioned throwing of a person into the water of Miller Harbor by three hoodlums cementing a male victim's feet in a bowl & toss him in like gangsters used to do back in the days of Al Capone, & beyond. Batman had to confess to being surprised that criminals still use that classic method of disposing interlopers, but when he forcefully asked one of the perps as to why they would use this method, he replied, 'old habits die hard'.

Then Batman punched him so hard the thug saw stars, convincing the other two to surrender under their own free will to escape the fate of the first one.

With preliminaries dealt with, it was time for the main event.

Time was something he could not waste any more of. Not tonight.

The Dark Knight met up with the Penguin at a condominium not far from where the Ales of Justice club was. Even after losing his famed Iceberg Lounge to the Tarantula during the three-day gang war, Oswald Cobblepot still manages to stay at the most luxurious places in Gotham, no matter what the price may be. At first sight of the Caped Crusader, Penguin grabbed the nearest umbrella (a well-disguised machine gun) & began firing at Batman, hoping he would get in a lucky shot on the infernal flying rodent.

He failed.

Disarming his rotund foe, Batman took the Penguin to the highest rooftop in the vicinity & held him upside down over the edge by his left ankle, giving Oswald a good view of what awaits below—from an altitude of 300 feet!

"Here's how it is, Oswald!", Batman says. "I have a question for which I _know_ you have an answer for, & you're going to tell me! If you don't, then we're gonna find if you can bounce once you strike the pavement! _Well_?"

"W-What do you want to know from _me_, Batman?", a terrified Penguin asked, literally understanding the gravity of his situation.

"Anton Schiavelli! Where is he residing at?"

"H-How did _you _know that he's…"

"_Answer the question!_"

"M-Mister Schiavelli is currently staying at the Gotham Plaza Hotel in Downtown Gotham on the upper levels, room 9606! I-I'm supposed to meet him there at 8:00 this evening concerning a business proposal! T-That's _all _I know, I swear!"

Batman held Penguin by his ankle a few moments longer. Suddenly, Penguin feels himself dropping from his height & shuts his eyes, not wanting to see his life flash before him. But instead of hitting the pavement below, he hits the gravel of the rooftop. Batman tosses him to safety, his head just missing the building's edge & lands with a thud. As Oswald rights himself, the Caped Crusader grabs his enemy by the lapels of his tuxedo & brings him at eye level, scowling.

"You're going to _miss _that meeting with Anton, Oswald!", Batman growls. "_I'm _going to go in your place, & if you should give Anton even the slightest hint of my arrival, I'll return in a _bad _mood! _Got it_?"

Penguin nods the tiniest nod, but it was all Batman needed for an answer. He drops Oswald like a sack of potatoes & walks to the building's edge. Pushing away the pain of landing hard on his rump, Penguin reaches into his right ankle to pull out a concealed .22 revolver & points it to where he last saw his cape & cowled foe.

But Batman was long gone, giving Oswald no living target to shoot at.

_Damn that wretched rodent!_, thought Penguin, holstering his firearm back in his right ankle. He should blatantly defy the Dark Knight's explicit orders & warn his new partner in crime of his unscheduled appearance at his hotel suite, but he simply cannot bring himself to do it. While he loathes to admit it, Oswald is deathly afraid of the Batman, & doesn't wish to endure his wrath twice in one night. Anton, on the other hand, might have better luck against his longtime enemy. It is true that Batman kicked Schiavelli out of Gotham soon after his first appearance, but in the decade Anton has been away, he's had time to gather up better & more skilled forces than before, & with his new & improved henchmen by his side, Anton Schiavelli may very well go down in history as 'The Man Who Killed Batman'.

Oswald loved how that sounded, & even allowed himself a grin.

He just needs to see the corpse of the Dark Knigh, & that grin might become permanent like a certain clown he knows of.

_8:00 p.m.:_

High atop the Gotham Plaza Hotel inside the large suite which is room 9606, Anton Schiavelli wore his red bathrobe as he gleefully stares out the glass door which leads to a balcony. He is a man in his early 50s at a height of just under six feet, having craggy facial features, & his head of dark brown hair had grayish white on the sides. At close inspection, one would mistake the man for Playboy founder Hugh Hefner, with even a lit pipe in his mouth to complete the resemblance of the man. And just like Hugh, Anton was surrounded by young & beautiful girls in his suite. One of these girls—going by the name of Cindy—was a mid-20s blonde, wearing nothing more than an outfit of sexy black lingerie. Her female companions are a black girl in a maid's outfit, a Hispanic dressed as a nurse, a Russian dressed in a black biker's jacket & pants, & a Japanese girl in a traditional school girl's dress. these luscious ladies were in their mid or late 20s, just a tad older than Cindy herself is. These girls are good at what they do, & are willing to give any man the time of his life in bed—for a price, of course.

Still staring out the glass doors, Anton spreads his arms out & inhales deeply through his nose, embracing the city below him like he was a God, & that the people were worshipping him.

_And soon, very soon_, Anton thought happily, _the people of Gotham _will _worship me, once it becomes all mine!_

"Anton, come to bed, baby", Cindy says in her sexy, seductive tone, patting the bed she lays upon. "It's a cold night, & I for one could use some warming up."

The Crime lord turns his head to Cindy & flashes a smile. "Soon, baby", he says, approaching the bed as Cindy crawls like a cat to the edge where her boss sits at. He strokes her hair & face tenderly, removing his pipe from his mouth, as he continues. "First things first, though. It's eight o' clock, & I'm epecting Oswald Cobblepot, a.k.a. the Penguin, here any moment to discuss some business. Afterwards", Anton places one hand on her right breast as Cindy places a gentle hand on his most 'private' part & purrs like a kitten, smiling like the Chesire Cat. "I'll have tons of free time, & you'll get to do that thing you know we both enjoy sooo much."

"Mmmm, I hope it not _too _long, baby", Cindy said sultrily.

"My business with the Penguin shouldn't be. He'll be an invaluable asset to my plans, & once the ball starts rolling, it's gonna be smooth sailing from here on in. Cindy, baby, ladies, you're looking at the man who's going to become the new crime kingpin of Gotham City!"

"The _hell _they are, Anton!"

The deep, eerie voice came from behind the crime lord, as a dark luminous shape rose out of literally nowhere. Cindy & the other girls stared in shock at the shape, creepy even in the suite's bright light. When Anton spun around, all he saw was a powerful blue hand reach out to him & grabbed his robe by the collar, & with a mighty thrust, sent him crashing through the glass doors which lead out to the balcony, sliding across the marble floor. Only the thick marble railing stops Anton from falling to his death.

From beneath the covers of the bed, Cindy pulls out a carving knife & lashes out at the intruder, who the ladies now identify as Batman. The Caped Crusader grabs her wrist in a tight grip & gives it a sharp twist, forcing Cindy to yelp in pain & drop her weapon. In the blink of an eye, the Dark Knight flings Cindy at two of the other girls—the Hispanic & the Russian biker—& they go down like living bowling pins, with Cindy as the ball. The Japanese girl—attired in a white judo robe—charges Batman & swings her leg at the Dark Knight, followed by a right horizontal chop & a left fist to the face. Batman barely avoids all these attacks at him, & retaliates with a hard boot to her solar plexus that sends her knocking back into the Russian biker girl, who had gotten her second wind as the Japanese girl got hers kicked out. The force of Batman's kick made the Russian biker hit her head on the wall, along with the Japanese babe, & this time, they went down & _stayed _down.

The Hispanic girl & Cindy fought to get up & attack anew, but Batman put them in their place with a barking command.

"_Stay put!_"

The two remaining conscious ladies obeyed the Caped Crusader.

With the girls no longer a concern, Batman went out to the balcony where Anton Sciavelli was, as the crime lord struggled to get to his feet after the blow he received. He was literally _lifted_ off his feet when Batman grabbed his collar again with both hands & brought the man to his face.

Like he did with Penguin, Batman's eyes were scowling menacingly.

"Long time no see, Anton!", he growled.

"B-Batman!", Anton gasped before his voice got solid. "What are _you _doing here?"

"_That's _supposed to be _my _question to _you_, Anton, _not _the other way around! I thought I've made it crystal clear for you to get out of Gotham permenantly! _What _part of that didn't you understand?"

While Batman was speaking menacingly, Anton quietly snuck his right hand into his robe's pocket to withdraw a folding shaving razor. With a jerk of his hand, the blade snapped open & Anton brought his weapon up in an attempt to cut the Batman's arm & force him to release his grip on him. But as fast as Anton was, Batman was even swifter: the Caped Crusader had a strong feeling that his foe would try something sneaky, & he beat him at his own game. Just as he did with Cindy, Batman snatched Anton's wrist & applied pressure to it, causing Anton to give up his weapon & it clattered to the marble floor, out of the crime lord's reach.

"_Don't _try that again!", he barked. "Now, you listen really good, Anton, because this will be the _very _last time I'll be telling you! Take yourself, your ladies, & whatever men you've got with your empire & get the hell _out _of my city & _keep _out! You have until midnight to comply, & if I should still see you here _anywhere_ in Gotham by then, we're going on _another _visit to Gotham zoo for you to get _real_ acquainted with the alligators & crocodiles! Unlike lions & tigers, Anton,_ they _don't leave any evidence of their prey behind—they gobble you up, bones & all! Is any of this _clear _to you, Schiavelli? _You're leaving!_"

"On the contrary, Batman…", Anton replied, smiling,as Batman glances his head to the right at the sound of doors being kicked open, revealing a dozen men all dressed in blue business suits, dark sunglasses, & a Glock handgun with laser sighting pointing their cocked weapons directly at the Dark Knight, red dots appearing on the vigilante's chest & cowled head. That also included Cindy & the Hispanic girl, each one with an Uzi automatic, also equipped with laser sighting. The Russian biker & Japanese girl were still out of commission, but the dozen men, Hispanic girl, & Cindy make up for that loss.

Anton Schiavelli chuckles in triumph. "Last time we met, I was no more than a _small_-time hood, who was only beginning to make it big! Now, I've gotten more powerful than before, with highly-trained killers protecting me & my assets from the law & the likes of you! Ironically, I suppose I should be _thanking _you for kicking me out of Gotham—you made me see just how weak & defenseless I was then! But now I'm back, & _nothing's_ going to stop me from becoming the new Crime boss of this city, especially not by the likes of one who dresses up like a flying rodent! So when you think about it, Batman, me thinks it should be _you _who needs to leave!"

Schiavelli chuckles again, believing he has the upper hand against the Caped Crusader, but his certainty quickly turns to doubt as Batman sneers at the crime boss. With a powerful jerk of his left arm, Batman holds Anton over the marble railing of the balcony, suspending the crime lord in mid-air, his feet dangling helplessly over empty air.

A whole _lot _of empty air, with the ground from his position hundreds of feet below him, & his confidence turns to utter terror, his heart jumping to his throat.

It all happened so fast that none of Anton's men or two girls had the chance to fire one shot at the vigilante.

Batman turns to the armed assailants with a wicked grin. "Go _ahead_, boys & girls. Take me down if any of you dare, but note that should _I _go down, so does your boss, & it's a _really _long plummet to the street below!"

Daring a look down, Anton Schiavelli starts getting dizzy spells & feeling light-headed, the same feeling a person would get from blowing up balloons too fast with their lungs, seeing no terra-firma underneath his dangling feet. When he looks up again, he finds himself staring at the grim visage of the Batman—a not-so-improved sight.

"Tell your men & girlfriends to lay down their arms, Anton, otherwise you take the long plunge!", Batman demanded. "And I suggest you hurry—my arm _is _getting rather sore & tired from keeping you held up like this!"

A slight nudge going down more than convinces the crime lord to carry out the Caped Crusader's demand.

"Drop 'em", he says weakly. When the men, Hispanic, & Cindy don't comply immediately, his voice gets louder & more demanding. "I said _drop 'em_, goddamnit!"

Simultaneously, the two girls & dozen suits all drop their firearms to the floor in a clattering pile, an always satisfying sound to the Caped Crusader.

"Good boy!", Batman says. "Now, where were we? Oh yes: Oswald mentioned you have three associates in your organization! Who are they, Anton, & where are they at right now?"

"They're Frank Pileggi, Mitch Mason, & Pedro Gonzales", Schiavelli said. "Pileggi is currently at Gotham University, & both Mason & Gonzales are waiting in the underground parking lot at Wayne Enterprises! I was going to get in touch with them after meeting with Oswald Cobblepot here in my suite right about now, being it's past eight o' clock!"

"Oswald's _not _gonna make it! As for your cronies, you tell them the same thing that I told you, but _not _of my going to meet them! Warn them in any way, & the gators & crocs at Gotham Zoo are gonna get a bellyache tonight! Understand? One more thing!"

"What?"

"The other night, there was genocide at a warehouse in Chinatown caused by chemicals that were stolen by two now-deceased employees from Wayne Enterprises! You wouldn't happen to _know_ anything about that, would you?"

"Not at all! Believe me, Batman, I had nothing to do with that! I didn't even _know _of it until you mentioned it to me just now!"

Silently, Batman throws Anton at his now-unarmed men like an ace baseball pitcher ready to strike his opponent out at home plate. Schiavelli is caught by his men, an easy task for them as their hands are devoid of guns. Seeing their boss out of harm's way, the Hispanic girl & Cindy snatch up their Uzis & take aim to where Batman is ready to turn the urban vigilante into swiss cheese.

But he was already gone from sight.

"_Fuck!_", Cindy spat.

"Forget about him for now, baby!", Anton said. "Despite his warnings & threats, it'll take a _lot _more than that costumed freak to scare _me _out of town this time!"

"But we better do something fast, boss", one of his men announced as Cindy & the Hispanic girl assist the reawakening Russian biker & Japanese girl. "You know the Batman's gonna be back, & as long as _he's _around…"

"I _know _that, dumbass!", Anton snapped. "This city won't _really _belong to me until he & his cronies are gone permenantly! Johnny?"

"Yeah?"

"Get on the phone with Frank Pileggi immediately. Tell him it's now declared open season on anyone wearing a costume & mask. Also tell him to spread the word to Mitch Mason & Pedro Gonzales, _and _that there's a ten million dollar reward to anyone who delivers the corpses of the Batman or any of his protégés!"

"_Gotcha_, boss!", Johnny proclaims & grins happily, digging into his pocket for his cell phone & starts dialing a number. Unseen by everyone in the room, a translucent & luminous glowing liquid with a blue-green hue oozes from the drain of the suite's sink, racing up & out before spilling to the floor & making its way to the crack of the closed door, seeping through. The thug nearest the door never knew what attacked him until he yelled out in excrutiating pain from his ankle.

Everyone turned to the sound.

"Floyd?", asked Johnny, when right before their eyes their comrade began sinking to the floor as a blue-green liquid was literally causing Floyd to melt like a living block of ice on a hot summer's day. Anton & his men (& women) backed away when Floyd was disappearing out of sight by the viscous fluid, which now begins to rise & take the shape of a liquid human, measuring at about their own height. Moments later, a second & then a third liquid humanoid appeared from under the closed bathroom door, multiplying their problems. If _that _weren't enough, Anton & his people spotted another three from the balcony which Batman & Anton 'shared' a while ago.

The crime boss & those in his employ gathered in a tight circle, with Anton in the middle.

The liquid humanoids remained motionless, seemingly staring at the criminals & daring one of them to make the first move.

"Vat in de hell _are _dese t'ings?", the Russian biker girl asks.

"I don't know, comrade, but I know where they're _going_!", said the Hispanic girl, taking aim at the nearest humanoid creature & firing her Uzi. The Japanese girl, Cindy, & the rest of Anton's hired goons follow suit & shoot their own guns at the inhuman humanoids. Round after round is shot from blazing guns, turning the room into a war zone as bullets make countless holes on the walls & doors. Anything human caught in this barrage of bullets would be dead a thousand times over.

But what they were shooting at _isn't _human, & the fluorescent living blobs advance towards Anton & his gang, with bullets passing through the creatures like they were ghosts.

Due to the ineffectiveness their guns were having, they may as well be.

Soon panic began to take control over the men & girls in the room, & they started shooting frantically, a few hitting two or three of Anton's men. Before the crime boss can assert order, the wounded gunmen were the next victims of the humanoid blobs, dissolving into nothing as only their clothes & weapons remain. From beneath the entrance to Anton's suite, another trio of the liquid humans puddle their way inside & rose to their full height, all advancing forward towards the frightened gangsters.

In no time, the shootings became less & the screams of horror & pain replaced it all.

Then it turned eerily quiet except for Johnny's cell phone with Frank Pileggi's voice on the line.

"Hello? HELLO! Johnny! What's going on over there? Answer me, dammit!"

Pileggi's words fell on deaf ears, as there were no more ears to hear his words to begin with.

Nightwing stood on a rooftop of a building located in Gotham's Coventry area, staring on down the view that is the 12 Ceasars Statues, one of many attractions of the area known as Robinson Park. After returning from the cemetery where his parents were buried at (the same place in which Bruce's own parents rested at), Alfred had his costume primed & ready as much as he had for Bruce himself. As he promised, the Wayne butler/accomplice filled Dick Grayson in on the details of what Bruce had learned from Oswald Cobblepot at the Ales of Justice club as Matches Malone. Brought up to speed, Dick set out as Nightwing & patrolled the streets of Gotham, making occasional pit stops in thwarting smaller crimes that he's happened to run into—things like muggings, attempted murders, & so forth.

The _real _crime was yet to come forth, & Nightwing waited patiently for the word to come through from his mentor.

That time has now arrived.

"Nightwing, come in", Batman said into his partner's mini-com placed in Dick's ear.

"Right here, Batman", Nightwing replied back. "Any new developments?"

"Plenty. I've gotten the names of Anton Schiavelli's three accomplices."

"Great! Who are they?"

"Frank Pileggi, Mitch Mason, & Pedro Gonzales. Remember them?"

"From my days as Robin. How _could _I forget? Each of them tried to kill _me _first before they tried their luck with _you_!"

"Pileggi is residing at Gotham University, whild Mason & Gonzales are at the underground parking lot at Wayne Enterprises. I want you to…"

"Let me guess. You wish to send me over to G.U. to intercept Pileggi while you take care of Mason & Gonzales from soiling the lot of your company, am I right?"

"That's the plan, Dick."

"Funny you should send me there. I'm currently at Robinson Park, so I can be at Gotham University in no time. You just be careful on your end. Nightwing out."

Nightwing cut the connection before Batman can reply back. No sooner did he sever contact with his mentor than a new voice caught his attention.

"Going back to school, Boy Wonder?"

With the speed of a striking cobra, Nightwing spun around & spotted a lone female standing a slender five feet, seven inches tall. She was dressed entirely in a skintight black costume, with boots & gloves. A gray belt with silver buckle circled her waist. A catlike headpiece encased her head, with short cat ears sticking out on top. Large goggles cover her blue-green eyes, & in her right hand she wields an 8-foot long bullwhip—a weapon this woman is nothing short of a pro at using.

Once she was one of the Bat-Family's most cunning (& most slippery) foes from their Rogues Gallery, but soon became an unwitting ally, & further still, she became Batman's love interest (however reluctant).

She is Selina Kyle.

She is sometimes known as the Princess of Plunder.

But she's best known by her namesake.

"Whoa, easy there, cowboy! I'm a white hat now, if you recall", she says, holding her hands up.

"Catwoman!", Nightwing exclaimed.

"That's my name, junior, don't wear it out", she said back playfully, walking up to the one-time Big Top performer.

"What brings _you _here tonight, Selena? I thought your area was in Gotham's East End."

"Things have been rather…quiet in my neck of the woods, so I decided to come check out what Bruce was up to. Surprised to see _you _here, though. I've learned you relocated over to the Big Apple."

"Bruce needed my help, so I came."

"Since when does Bruce need help of any kind?"

"Since four high-ranking criminals from Gotham's past have returned to form a tight grip on the city's underworld—Frank Pileggi, Mitch Mason, & Pedro Gonzales, with none other than Anton Schiavelli as the Ringmaster of this sinister circus."

"I've heard of them. Didn't bruce give them all the boot last time they were here?"

"They've returned in an attempted comeback. Apparently, _they're_ just as stubborn as _he _is. Our job is to make sure they don't succeed & kick them out of Gotham even harder, & hope they get the message to _stay _out. I'm heading over to say hello to Frank Pileggi at Gotham University. Care to tag along, Cat?"

"Mrow, junior. How could I resist? Let's roll."

Swinging on cable lines attached to grapplers, Nightwing & Catwoman soar through the night skies across buildings, heading west in the direction of Gotham University. Nightwing had a somewhat strange feeling being side-by-side with one of Batman's former foes. In the past, Selina Kyle had been a constant thorn in the Bat-Family's side, being quite the hindrance & helping no one but herself for reasons known only to her. She was even suspected of shooting Police Commissioner James Gordon in the bac three times that caused him to retire for a time. But Nightwing does have to confess that Selina has been helpful, such as when Gotham was infected by the deadly Ebola Gulf-A virus & Selina, along with Robin & Azrael, traveled down to Canada to track down individuals who are believed to have the secret to a cure in their own blood. Her biggest change in motives was when the killer known as Hush (later to be revealed as Bruce Wayne's childhood friend Thomas Elliot) had manipulated a number of Batman's worst enemies (Killer Croc, Poison Ivy, the Joker, etc.) & sent them against him with new M.O.s to throw him off balance. It was Hush's secret plot to destroy Batman's life as his alter ego Bruce Wayne had as a child, after a failed attempt for Thomas to kill his parents in order to inherit their fortune. In the midst of the chaos surrounding them, Batman revealed his secret identity to Selina, after having finally admitted his feelings for her. Sadly, Bruce was still suspicious of Selina, & that mistrust forced them to go their separate ways. Bruce Wayne (Batman) may be the greatest detective who ever lived, but one thing he was no expert on was how to handle a relationship with the opposite sex, even after several women have come & gone in his life—people like photo-journalist Vicki Vale, Dr. Shondra Kinsolving, the late Vesper Fairchild (whom Bruce Wayne was accused of murdering), & Talia Head, the daughter of one of Batman's greatest foes, eco-terrorist Ra's Al Ghul.

To most people, love can be the greatest joy.

But to someone like Bruce Wayne, it can be the greatest enemy he's ever faced, more powerful than any of the scum on Gotham's streets or even the crazies locked up at Arkham Asylum.

Whoever coined the phrase 'love hurts' hasn't met Bruce Wayne.

In spite of all they went through during the Hush fiasco, Catwoman (Selina) still has strong feelings for Bruce, & she knows deep down that he has the same affection for her, even if he _is _reluctant to admit it like most positive things.

And Nightwing is currently swinging alongside her.

He finds it kind of ironic, but life can be like that sometimes when one leasts expects it.

He doesn't let it bother him much, though: in fact, Dick finds it a rather _good _thing that his mentor & Selina have a thing going between them (not that it's any of his business as Batman once told him!).

_Who knows?_, Nightwing asked himself. _Perhaps one day, Bruce & Selina will really open up to each other & live happily. Then again, maybe pigs can whistle._

Whether he meant that last remark or not, Dick doesn't know.

What he _does _know is that he has a job to do, & Selina is here to assist.

Nightwing stops on a rooftop & puts a hand to his ear, making Catwoman stop herself.

"Something wrong?", she asks.

"I'm getting something on the police frequency", he answered. "Just a sec."

Catwoman remained quiet as Nightwing listened intently on his earpiece radio for a solid two minutes, absorbing every detail.

"Whoa", was all he could say.

"What does 'whoa' mean?", Catwoman asked. "What's wrong?"

"Something Batman should _definitely _know about." Nightwing adjusts the mini-com in his ear. "Batman? This is Nightwing. Are you there?"

"Go ahead, Dick", Batman said after a second.

"On our way to Gotham University, I picked up some rather disturbing news on the police band."

"What kind?"

"You _did _pay Anton Schiavelli a little visit just now, right?"

"Several minutes ago. Why?"

"It seems Anton had _another _visitor or visitors shortly after you left, only they had a more _permenant _way of delivering your message. Bruce, Anton & all his henchmen have been rubbed out."

Batman was silent for a moment before answering. "Did the police say by whom?"

"They took a guess by saying a possible rival gang, like the LoBoyz & Street Demonz you & I tackled the other night, but they can't confirm it. And that's not all."

"Did the police confirm the bodies?"

"That's the weird part, Bruce: when the cops arrived at Anton's room after someone reported gunfire at Gotham Plaza, all they found were clothing & weaponry laying all around. In short, no bodies were found anywhere, & I mean _anywhere_. I think this may have something to do with the warehouse incident, being as to how all the police found of the victims were their clothes with no traces of even one drop of blood."

"I've just thought of that too, Dick", Batman said after a moment or two of silence. "It would seem that the genocide killer is now targeting criminals, using the same M.O. as he did the other night in Chinatown to murder those partying civilians."

"But _why_, Bruce? There's got to be more to it than that."

"We'll look into that later. Right now, let's keep to the tasks currently at hand. Contact me after you've dealt with Pileggi at Gotham University. Batman out."

The connection was no more, & Nightwing was alone again with Catwoman.

"Anton Schiavelli got rubbed out, huh?", Selina says. "Looks like Bruce isn't the _only _one who wants the skank out of his city. You know, I seem to recall a report like that in an alleyway near the Upper East Side the other night."

Nightwing snapped his head to her, surprised. "Really? Batman & I were there at that time in an attempt to break up a feud between the LoBoyz & Street Demonz! What did you hear, Selina?"

"Simply that someone reported gunshots, followed by a ton of screaming that sounded like Jason Voorhees was having a party of his own, only when police inspected the scene, all that was found were clothing & guns, some covered in an icky blue-green substance. It was weird, just like you said."

"Just like Anton", Nightwing said under his breath.

"Just _like _him. Something strange _is _going on in this city, more so than usual, & you don't need to be a detective to see it."

"Whatever it is, we'd better get to Pileggi & fast. If criminals are now being targeted by this new killer in our midst, we could be their only hope. You still game?"

"Do cats have nine lives? Lead the way, junior."

That said, Nightwing & Catwoman resumed their trip through the city to G.U., being now only five minutes away.

Deep in the pits of their stomachs, Dick & Selina have a feeling that things are about to get _really _hairy in the next couple of minutes.

In Gotham City, you can take that to the bank.

Frank Pileggi stood out like a sore thumb. He was a shaven black man, dressed in a brown trenchcoat & black pants. These concealed his muscular physique, for before making it big as a mob boss, Pileggi was hired muscle as a teenager, running with groups & delivering special cargo for his employers. It wasn't long until Pileggi began his own empire, turning on the ones who had hired him to begin with & taking over.

Watching Pileggi from a rooftop at Gotham University that gives a great view of the courtyard, Nightwing remembers Frank from his Robin days. On their first encounter, Pileggi tried to feed him to a pool of man-eating piranhas, hanging him upside down twenty feet by a rope which he cut with a scythe. Were it not for Batman's timely intervention, Dick Grayson would literally be fish food then. When Pileggi was defeated, Batman turned the tables on his tormentor by hanging Frank by a rope—high atop the Wayne Building, threating to send him to his death should he ever return to Gotham.

Unfortunately for Dick, he has, & the memory of his first run-in with the black crime boss still sends a chill up his spine even now.

But now he has a chance to make Frank Pileggi feel the terror he gave to him as Robin.

_Part of me _did _hope you'd come back, Pileggi!_, Nightwing thought angrily. _Now you're gonna know from _me _how it feels to be helpless!_

With Batman on other current business, Nightwing had absolutely no problem with convincing Pileggi to 'Get the hell out of Dodge City' on his own, despite Selina's presence.

On campus grounds, Frank Pileggi tries reaching Anton Schiavelli on his cell phone again, but like the last couple of times, all he got was a recorded message.

"_Dammit!_", he cursed, closing his phone shut & pocketing it.

"Long way from the neighborhood aren't we, Frankie?"

The voice made Pileggi instinctively draw his gun from underneath his coat—a Desert Eagle Magnum—and points it in the voice's direction.

"Who's there?", he barked demandingly. "Don't make me come after you!"

Nightwing casually & calmly steps into view of the gangster from around a corner, holding his primary weapons—a pair of polymer Escrima sticks—in both hands.

Pileggi chuckles. "Well well, if it ain't little Bat-junior who's come out to play. Is poppa bat here, too?"

"Sorry, Pileggi", Nightwing says, twirling his sticks in his hands. "Batman's got himself other business accusations to handle at the moment. Like it or not, I'm all you have."

Frank grins wickedly. "I ain't got no problem with that, bro'! See, I already know how this is gonna end, & once Anton Schiavelli becomes the new crime kingpin of Gotham, the _first _thing we're gonna do is rid the city of its 'infestation'!"

Nightwing grins himself. "Not gonna happen, Pileggi. Besides, Anton Schiavelli is, how you say, 'sleeping with the fishes' right about now. Somebody took out him & his men a little while ago at Gotham Plaza."

Frank Pileggi had to admit to being surprised by that piece of news. He wondered as to why Anton wasn't calling him back after his stooge Johnny rang him, only to be disconnected shortly thereafter. If that really _is _true, it only meant a golden opportunity for Pileggi, & he was taught to _never _turn one down.

"It don't matter!", he says gleefully. "I'll just simply claim myself the new crime kingpin in Anton's place!"

"Like I said before, that's _not _gonna happen, Pileggi!", Nightwing said firmly.

"I don't recall asking for your opinion on the subject, little boy!", Frank says, snapping his fingers loudly. From the school building, five windows explode in showers of glass, revealing ten black hoodlums, all armed with Uzis & other automatics. These hoods begin blazing their guns at Batman's partner, their bullets tearing apart the well-manicured yard. In a heartbeat, Nightwing leaped up in the air & somersaulted over to the gangsters as Catwoman jumped down & joined him in kicking the crap out of their gun-toting foes, using a combination of feet, fists, sticks, & a long black bullwhip, a weapon in which Selins Kyle is as much a master at wielding as Indiana Jones himself.

Frank Pileggi saw an impossible sight: his highly-trained henchmen taken down by costumed freaks in under two minutes. His heart was palpitating wildly, but he fought to get it under his control; any sign of weakness in front of one's enemy is unacceptable, & he refuses to go down without a fight. He may not be the Batman, but he is associated with him, & Pileggi can at least take high pleasure in taking him out with his bare hands.

When the last of Frank's men have been dealt with, Pileggi makes his move. Taking aim at the back of Nightwing's head, the black mobster squeezes the trigger of his Magnum. Catwoman takes notice, & her heart races as fast as Frank's did.

"Nightwing!", she shouts, diving at her partner & tackling him to the ground, just as Frank's Magnum fires off a shot that echoes with a sound like a grenade went off, the bullet barely missing its intended target. All the bullet managed to hit was the school's brick wall, making a sizeable hole where it struck.

Cursing, Pileggi lines his gun up for another shot, but Catwoman eliminates that option by cracking her whip at his gun hand, wrapping it around the weapon & flinging it away.

"If there's one thing I can't stand it's backstabbers!", Catwoman snapped. "How about a _fair_ fight for once in your life, Pileggi?"

"Thanks for the save, Cat! I can deal with Frank solo!", Nightwing said, getting to his feet & rushes at his hated enemy, placing his Escrima sticks back in storage. When he deals with Pileggi, Dick wants it to be with his own hands, ready to mete out his hatred for the man since his Robin days.

Frank, however, wasn't going to just let the junior Bat deal with him as he & the Cat had done to his men. Reaching into his coat again, he pulls out not another gun, but a large carving knife, eager to stab the former Boy Wonder to death, or gut him like a fish. Just as soon as his foe was within reach, Pileggi swung his blade at Nightwing, who barely avoids getting his throat slit open. But while he misses bleeding from his jugular, Frank manages to get in a lucky fist to the side of Nightwing's head, causing the young hero to see stars. Dick clears the whiteness away in his vision just in time to evade another swipe from Pileggi's knife, one that would've cut him open like a Thanksgiving turkey had he been a split-second slower. Nightwing nearly forgot that Frank Pileggi was keen at handling himself in a _mano a mano _fight, weapon or no, & that almost cost him. Years of not dealing with him was no excuse, & unless he pushes aside his anger & hatred for the man & start thinking straight, his second encounter with Frank will be his last.

On the next attempted swipe at him, Nightwing grabbed Pileggi's arm & twists it in a painful position. Frank grunted loudly even through clenched teeth & drops his knife to the ground which Nightwing effortlessly kicks well out of reach. Unknowing if Pileggi has other concealed weapons hidden within his coat, the young hero violently yanks it off & throws it away like any discarded rag, leaving Pileggi in his pants & a white shirt. This is when Nightwing finally unloads on the crime boss with a barrage of rock-hard punches to his face & chest. Now it was Frank's turn to be seeing stars with each blow received, with every new one being as hard as the previous. Not since he nearly beat the Joker to death in Gotham Cathedral has Nightwing ever been so ruthless on a criminal, but unlike his quarrel with the Clown Prince of Crime, Nightwing has the sense to know when it was enough before it became too late.

His adversary too disoriented to continue fighting back, Nightwing grabs Frank by his collar & pulls him close as Batman would do, were he here.

"Now you listen _good_, tough guy!", Nightwing said through clenched teeth. "Gotham _doesn't _need another gang war, let alone scum like you running rampant through it trying to squeeze it in a tight grip! So here's what's _going _to happen—you're packing your bags & getting your ass _out _of this city! And if you ever even _think _of coming back, I'll _personally _make your life a living hell! _You hear me, Pileggi?_"

Frank was about to say something when Catwoman beat him to the punch.

"Nightwing! Look out behind you!"

Keeping a close eye on Pileggi, the young hero turns his head.

"What is it, Cat…?", was all he could get out when he suddenly saw something from out of the corner of his eye, turning his full attention to it & forgetting Pileggi for now. Like Catwoman herself, Nightwing's eyes were wide not with fascination but terror as he witnesses a puddle of a bluish-green fluid seep up from beneath the ground & rise up to the shape of a man, or what sort of resembles one. It stood at a height of six feet & was only five feet away from Batman's young partner. Nightwing didn't know what this…thing…is, but he wasn't going to stick around to find out.

"Get out of here, Pileggi! _Now_!", he yelled, darting away from the monstrosity looming near him. When Nightwing bolted, Frank got a clear view of what had scared off 'Bat-junior'. His eyes go even wider & his nerves go cold & stiff, unable to move away from the hideous creature closing in on him. Pileggi gathers up just enough strength to turn & run, but in doing so in such a haste, he unwillingly twists his ankle & falls on the campus lawn, sending a surge of pain. Trying to pick himself up, Frank only makes it halfway up when the luminous thing in humanoid form covers the fallen crime boss from behind, & Pileggi shouts & screams at the top of his lungs as the creature dissolves his flesh before a horrified Nightwing & Catwoman, who now begin to understand what must have happened to Anton Schiavelli shortly after Batman had left his suite at Gotham Plaza. It was confirmed when the thing left behind Pileggi's clothes lying on the lawn & started advancing toward them.

That was when the thugs the duo took down at their feet began screaming painfully just as Frank had done. Dick & Selina looked down to see more of the viscous liquid seep up from the dirt & grass to attack the fallen gangsters under Pileggi's employ, each one reaching out to the costumed heroes in desperate pleas for help. Even though they wanted to, there was nothing either of them could do to save them; if these fluid monsters can dissolve human flesh upon contact, it would be utterly useless to try & fend them off in order to rescue their one-time attackers.

The only ones they _can _save are themselves, something they better start doing right away!

Extending her claws from her gloves & boots, Catwoman leaped up to the wall of the building & began climbing as Nightwing used his grappling line to hoist himself up, its hooked end grabbing solidly on the roof's edge. When they got to the top, Pileggi's hired guns were all dissolved away, leaving only what they wore & what they were shooting with behind. The lawn was filled now with ten of the humanoid blobs of blue-green liquid. They all seemed to look up at the two costumed heroes, giving shivers up & down their spines. If they can travel up the wall after them, they'll have a whole new problem.

Luckily for them, they don't even try.

Nightwing & Catwoman look at each other at a total loss for words; their guts _told _them that things would get real hairy, & once again, they were right to listen to them.

It _did _get that way, only it got _extremely _hairy.

"Whoa!", was all they could say, & they did it in unison.

**CHAPTER V**

Life was seldomly an easy road for one Victor Fries.

As a boy, he had a most unusual hobby—freezing animals. It was an attempt to escape having being constantly beaten by a father who was all but brutal. Because of his bizarre habit, he had been sent to counseling & was repeatedly being picked on by the kids from school. With all the coldness he was frequently getting thrown at him, Victor believed he would never know warmth from a woman.

Then came along a girl named Nora, an athlete who inadvertently stole his heart. It wasn't long after that the two had married, but again tragedy would strike: Victor had discovered that his beloved Nora was diagnosed with a rare malady. To find & concoct a cure, Fries abandoned his teaching job to go to work for Gothcorp, praying for a miracle. When the soulless corporation had refused to assist Victor in his endeavor to cure his wife of the disease, Fries was bombarded with chemicals that altered his body temperature—a drastic change that confined Victor to forever remain in temperatures consisting of 32 degrees, & below. To enable him to walk around, Fries has constructed a specially-made cryogenic suit that kept his body to the temperature he needs to survive. Driven by vengeance by those from Gothcorp, Victor began hunting down all those responsible for their denying the funds to help Victor finding Nora's cure, eventually getting face-to-face with C.E.O. Ferris Boyle. An encounter with Batman was Ferris' only hope of escaping the literally cold-hearted Vicor Fries from the same fate as his other employees who caused Victor's condition. Taking the name Mr. Freeze, the villain has clashed with the Dark Knight several times, usually in heists consisting of diamonds, the one substance Freeze needs in order to keep his containmemt suit powered up. But the most fateful encounter with Batman was when, driven by his vengeful nature, Victor accidentally fires his sub-zero gun (a weapon capable of shooting a super-cold ray that can freeze anythong & anyone upon contact) at Nora's cryo-chamber, shattering it into a million shards of ice. Despite Batman's offering to help his wife, Freeze blames the Caped Crusader, thus turning him as cold as the temperature he needs to be in to stay alive.

In short, Victor Fries has become a living iceberg/blizzard.

And now, at a Diamond Parlor on Gotham City's Wall Street between the Financial & City Hall Districts, Mr. Freeze displays his cold temperament in battle with one of Gotham's costumed defenders.

But it wasn't with the Batman: this individual was female, sanding at a height of five feet & eleven inches, & wears an outfit in black, purple, & a pinch of white, with skin exposed at her belly, biceps, & upper femurs. Her mask had large points over the eyes (which were brown), & her hair was black; a purple cape with a white outline draped down her shoulders. In her hands, she holds a silver staff, with four spares hanging on her belt.

Her name is Helena Rosa Bertinelli.

But, dressed in her current attire, she is known as Huntress.

Ironically, Huntress, like Mr. Freeze, is driven by the emotion of revenge: long ago, Helena was the daughter of a wealthy Mafioso family. One day, her family became the targets of a rival gang. Heading to Sicily, she was taught unarmed combat skills & returned to Gotham to wage war upon the city's underworld, including those responsible for murdering her family. Her ruthless & merciless methods were unacceptable by Batman, & for a time, Huntress never won his approval, especially when given a chance to keep her rage in check during her brief time with the JLA (the Justice League of America) which was revoked when she attempted to kill the villain known only as Prometheus, a psychopath who once almost eradicated the entire team singlehandedly.

All was not lost for Huntress, though: during No Man's Land, after masquerading as the new Batgirl (a role now belonging to Cassandra Cain), Huntress received new respect from Batman when she suffered terrible wounds protecting close to a hundred people from the Joker on Christmas Eve that year. Aside from being an occasional ally to Batman, Huntress also lends her assistance to Oracle & Black Canary (as the Birds of Prey), & has befriended Vic Sage, a.k.a. The Question, a crimefighter with a similar background to Helena's. After being with the government agency called Checkmate for a brief time, Huntress returned to Gotham in her new outfit—a similar but different variation of her original one.

Unlike Mr. Freeze, however, Huntress fights to _protect _Gotham from the likes of Freeze & his cohorts, which Huntress is currently in close combat with, using her staff & fighting skills to stay one step ahead of them.

"You people _simply _couldn'twait until Monday morning to make a withdrawl, could you?", Huntress says, dispatching two more of Freeze's thugs with her staff.

"Keep her busy, you idiots!", Mr. Freeze snaps, dressed in his blue metal containment suit with an unbreakable acrylic bubble that reveals his light blue bald head & wearing a pair of red-lensed goggles over his eyes. Standing inside a vault with the metal door smashed to brittle pieces courtesy of the villain's freeze gun, he holds a bag of diamonds in one hand, & his standard weapon in the other.

"Just a few more minutes, & soon I'll have _all _the diamonds I need to power my suit for a long time! Now _fight_! Bring her _down_!"

"They can _try_, Freeze!", Huntress barked, delivering a karate chop to one of Freeze's thugs to his sternum, dropping him like a deck of cards. "But I doubt they're gonna be very successful!"

Huntress puts down the last of Freeze's hired help before facing the cold-hearted villain himself, twirling her staff like a gymnast would.

"Now, it's just you & me, Freeze! You ready to give up those diamonds you're thinking of stealing, or do _you _want the same punishment your underlings got?"

Mr. Freeze steps out of the vault, unintimidated by Huntress' threat. "Not only do I _think_ I'll be stealing these diamonds, my dear, I _will _be stealing them! As for receiving further punishment, I believe it will be _your _turn!"

Mr. Freeze punctuates his threat by pointing his weapon at Huntress & squeezes the trigger. A ray of blue-white freezing energy shoots out, aiming straight for the heroine. Huntress dives to one side to avoid getting literally put on ice by the villain. The blast hits the far wall inside the exchange, turning it into an urban ice slope. He continues firing his ray gun at Huntress, who stays a step ahead & runs, ducks, dives, & somersaults in the air to keep from being flash-frozen. Little by little, the place was becoming the Antarctic & getting colder by the second. Huntress' breath became visible in the frigid climate, & she wondered how much longer she can hold out against a man who is colder than the ice he's creating.

The frigid air was stirring Freeze's men awake, & soon they're witness to a struggle with their boss & one of Gotham's defenders.

Then they see Huntress slip on the ice after a leap through the air & land on her ass.

_Ouch!_, Huntress thought, rubbing her rump.

The underlings saw this as a chance not to pass up.

"Slick, boss!", said one of them, a man in black sweats, boots, & gloves like the rest. "Now's our chance to finish her off! Come on,boys—it's payback time!"

"_NO!_", shouted Mr. Freeze, aiming his gun at his goons & pulling the trigger. In the blink of an eye, Freeze's men were frozen where they lay like ice statues, freezing all but two—a thin man by the name of Bud, & a chubby fellow named Lou. The two survivors (& Huntress) watch in horror as the men crumple to pieces before their disbelieving eyes.

"She's _my _kill!", Mr. Freeze barks to his two survivors. "Understand?"

Scared out of their wits, Bud & Lou nod nervously.

"You…you _monster_!", Huntress shouted, repulsed by what she saw. While she may have been cold to criminals, she was never _this _cold. "Is there _no _decency or humanity left within that cold heart of yours?"

"Not an ounce of it, my dear!", Freeze says. "Not since that accursed Batman took the life of my beloved Nora!"

"You're _wrong _about that, Freeze! Batman dedicates himself to _save _lives, _not _vice-versa! As I understand it, it was _you _who cost Nora her life when you blasted her cryo-chamber!"

"_How DARE you speak of my wife like that!_", Mr. Freeze screamed, his button indefinitely pushed by Huntress' remark. In a blind rage, the cold-hearted villain fires his weapon at Huntress & anything else within his sights, continuing to transform the Diamond Exchange into an icy tomb.

And 'tomb' was definitely the word, as Bud & Lou can sense that they won't make it out of the place alive if they remain, however loyal they may be to Freeze.

"We'd better go, Lou!", Bud said. "The boss is going _crazy_!"

"Yeah! Let _him _do in that Bat-broad!", Lou said, jerking his thumb to the back door, one of the few places untouched by ice. "We're _outta _here!"

The two surviving thugs race for what could very well be their only chance of escaping the fiasco with their lives, & come in inches of reaching their ticket to freedom.

If only something didn't attack them from above.

Above the door was an air vent with a metal grating as its cover. A stream of blue-green flourescent liquid sprayed down on Bud & Lou in the face, & they began screaming in pain & terror as the liquid started eating their flesh away. Their screams caught both Mr. Freeze's & Huntress' attention, & turned to watch Freeze's last two hired hands melt out of existence by viscous fluids which leave nothing left of its victims but the clothes on their backs. Forming into one mass, the liquid takes the shape of a humanoid creature, facing Freeze & Huntress.

_Good heavens!_, the heroine thought fearfully. _Where did _that _thing come from?_

Even if he had no real love for any of his men as he showcased before, Mr. Freeze wouldn't tolerate anyone or any_thing _interfering with his plans _or _his men. He takes aim at the humanoid blob with his weapon to freeze it in place, but before he can pull the trigger, he gets attacked from above, not by Huntress, but by more of the blue-green liquid that made short work of Bud & Lou. The fluid drips onto Freeze's armored suit, covering a good portion of the cold-hearted villain. He attempts to shake off the inhuman substance, but his efforts were futile: the liquid stuck to him like fleas on a dog, & they were even attempting to seep inside his suit & dissolve Freeze from within his protective shell.

Keeping her distance, Huntress didn't know whether or not she should help Freeze ward off the fluid enemy he was currently struggling with. Even if she has learned to temper down her vengeful nature to a degree, she hasn't a clue on who was the greater threat—Freeze, or his enemy which acts like a reject from a 1950s movie, about a giant gelatinous substance from space that terrorizes a quiet town.

She needn't do anything anyway: when the liquid reached a certain spot in Freeze's armor, an electrical surge was discharged & surrounds his entire person. The electricity fries every morsel of the dangerous fluid & reduces it all to ashes in moments. But the damage was more than Freeze can handle, & his suit continues to spark violently, dwindling his stamina & agility. With it in its current condition, there's no way he can resume quarreling with Huntress without getting defeated by the heroine.

He will _not _be defeated by the likes of her: grabbing the bag with the diamonds he was looting, Mr. Freeze charges the front door, covered by ice, & like a rhino or bull, smashes his way out of the Diamond Exchange with what little strength his suit still has & raced off into the street, but issues a final warning to Huntress, who dove out of the lunatic's path.

"I will _not _forget this, woman!", he shouted as he ran out of sight. "You will _pay _for tonight's treachery!"

Huntress & the other liquid human were left in the place, but the former decided to cut her losses & choose to exit, just as the Diamond Exchange began to crumble & break apart from the sub-zero temperatures of the ice Freeze covered the room in, making it brittle as clay. The room rested under a ten-story apartment complex which is thankfully deserted.

Unable to support the weight due to the weakened condition of the Diamond Exchange, the entire building collapses onto itself like a house of cards in a heap of smoke & debris.

Having barely avoided being buried underneath tons of rubble & cheating death once more, Huntress stealthily retreated over to a neighboring building on the other side of the street, making sure as little eyes were watching her as she could. Climbing to the top on the roof, she surveys the damage as the Diamond Exchange was marked by a heap of debris & a trail of thick grey smoke which rises up to the sky like an overgrown snake. From her vantage point, she can see neither Mr. Freeze nor the remaining humanoid blob of blue-green fluid anywhere in the vicinity.

They've both flown the coop.

_I bet _I'll _get blamed for this by him!_, Huntress thought, contemplating in her head the inevitable argument between her & Batman once this incident reaches his pointed ears. But she has a damn good alibi: she was trying to stop Victor Fries from stealing diamonds to power his containment suit when he flash-froze both his men & the building's structure & brought it down. On top of _that_, she was witness to human-shaped _blobs _that dissolved two of his men, & almost Freeze himself. The first part of that story Batman can probably buy, but even she has to admit that the latter part to be a bitter pill to swallow.

Huntress doubts that even _she _believes it, & she was _there_.

Huntress doesn't know if the liquid creature perished in the collapse or escaped, but she had no time to ponder which scenario was likely. She heard sirens in the distance approaching fast, & she didn't wish to stick around to answer a million questions which she didn't have any for.

Using the advantage of the rooftops, Huntress made good her escape.

Even she has the sense to quit while she was ahead, & decides to call it a night, having caused enough damage even if she wasn't indirectly responsible for it.

Perhaps she'll catch a movie tonight, as it _is _a good night for one.

_The Wayne Enterprises Underground Parking Lot:_

Most of the parking lot was void of automobiles as a good number of employees at Wayne Enterprises have left work when their daily shift had ended, but there were some still left with those who were beginning the late shift. While the lot was plentiful with parked cars, it wasn't so with personell or any living soul, save for a few.

They were only two individuals in the entire area, but they were anything _but _employees of Wayne Enterprises; these men stood beside a black SUV, staring straight ahead with their arms folded, waiting. The first was a mountain of a man, standing at an impressive height of between seven & eight feet. He was a burly man, with a physique of a wrestler, boxer, & body-builder rolled in one. His expressionless face & buzz haircut makes one give the impression that he was made of stone—a Golem come to life, if you will.

He is Mitch Mason, & he was dressed in a dark grey business suit, making him seem like a modern-day detective from the 1930s. In reality, he was a ruthless gangster who once ran a criminal empire in Gotham City. Mason was a man to be taken _very _seriously, & it wasn't just because of his intimidating size & stamina: if anyone, even any of his own men, took a step or said something wrong just once, Mitch made damn sure it was never repeated—_ever_. A few disobedient servants whose lives were cut short by Mason were more than enough to give the rest of his men the message that was crystal-clear. Everybody feared Mason, including other crime bosses; Mitch hits swiftly & rock-hard with no questions asked, whether it be by gun or by his own fists if ever he got challenged and/or opposed. A blow by Mason is a surefire death sentence.

Only a few major criminals had dared to oppose Mason & lived to tell about it—Harvey Dent, the one-time District Attorney who became the physically & mentally scarred psychopath Two-Face, the Ventriloquist Arnold Wesker & his wooden but lethal companion (& boss) Scarface, the cold-hearted terrorist Mr. Freeze, & the Clown Prince of Crime himself, the Joker.

In short, most of the inmates locked up at Arkham Asylum were the ones who have given Mason the most headaches.

Them, & the Batman himself: in a shorter time span than Anton Schiavelli had last been in Gotham City, about seven years ago, Mitch & the Dark Knight were engaged in a brutal brawl of fisticuffs at the Gotham Steelworks factory on a platform right above the vats of molten metal below. Mason matched Batman in both strength & stamina, even surpassing him in those areas, in spite of his giant appearance. No matter how hard Batman tried, he simply couldn't bring Mitch down using brute force. Luckily, Batman doesn't fight crime using only his fists alone. He gets the drop on Mason by wrapping him up by his ankles in steel chains & hung him over the sultry metal below him, lowering him to just out of reach as Mason was suspended only five-ten feet above the metal. Having his opponent on the ropes, Batman demanded that Mason get out of town, or the next time he'll simply dunk him in the metal rather than just be dangling over it. Feeling the intense heat that was too much for even _him _to bear, Mitch was more than convinced.

But now he's back, swearing vengeance on Batman to make him pay for making a fool out of & humiliating him.

And he isn't alone: next to him is a Hispanic man, wearing a red & white striped suit with matching shoes & hat, if a little loose, especially at the sleeves & trousers. He was not as built as Mason, being a rather slim character, but he is still a very dangerous individual for good reason: he is Pedro Gonzales, & he is highly skilled at martial arts, among other traits, such as a sense for spotting trouble or a spy from a mile away. His fighting skills are second to none: Pedro has a very lethal kick that can crack ribs or fracture a skull, or even crush someone's windpipe with one well-placed blow. His hands are deadly in a fight as well. He is able to crack any bone he comes in contact with if hit hard enough, something he has done on several occasions in the past. His blows are well-timed, & most enemies don't even know that Pedro has hit them until it was much too late. And if by chance his hand-to-hand techniques don't quite finish an enemy off, his nickname will pick up where his deadly blows leave off.

Of all the foes Pedro has fought, only the Batman has bested him: during his brief but brutal reign in Gotham City, Pedro had combated the Caped Crusader shortly before Mitch beside him had risen to power here. Batman was the only person who could match Pedro move for move & sneak up on him undetected, & he was the only thing that got Gonzales out of Gotham. When they clashed on a rooftop years ago, Batman had a brief but deadly struggle with the Spanish crime lord that got the urban vigilante a few well-placed cuts on his person. Realizing just how dangerous Gonzales is, Batman took Pedro on an unscheduled flight above the city via a hidden set of bat wings on a compatible harness strapped to his back, taking his foe to dizzying heights before dropping him over Miller Harbor. Pedro screamed all the way down before the Dark Knight dove & caught him just five feet above the water's surface. Had he hit the water, it surely would've killed him, & Batman threatened to do nothing to save him & _let _Pedro hit the drink if he dares to return to Gotham City.

Needless to say, Pedro Gonzales vowed revenge on Gotham's guardian, & Anton Schiavelli has given him, Frank Pileggi, & Mitch Mason all their chance for the one thing they truly desire most, aside from forming a tight grip on the city's underworld.

"They're late, Gonzales", said Mitch in a deep, menacing voice, glancing at his watch. "It's past 9:00 p.m.. We should have heard from Anton Schiavelli & the others right about now."

"Patience, amigo, patience", Gonzales says calmly in accented English. "You need to understand, jefe, building a vast criminal empire like the one senor Schiavelli is planning is like a game of chess. You first need to _think _about what your next few moves are before you make them. Any wrong moves on your part will spell quick & utter defeat."

Mitch Mason nodded. "I _do _understand, Pedro, believe me. I've had that problem in the past when last I was here in Gotham, due to a bunch of sloppy, incompetent men. What I meant to say is, Anton told us he'd call at exactly nine this evening to tell us what his next steps would be, & being that it's past the deadline, I'm thinking something may have happened—and I have a pretty good idea of what that 'something' _is_."

Now it's Pedro who nods. "Si. You _do _have a point, compadre. Each of the criminals in this city has more than enough reason to eliminate the Batman, which I'm guessing is what you were referring to, correct?"

"Damn straight! That costumed freak scorched me in more ways than one! Not only did he almost turn me into a metal statue, he disbanded my loyal army & sold every penny of my assets to charity—_charity_, for Christ's sakes!"

"I suffered a similar fate to yours, jefe! I nearly had a heart attack when the Batman dropped me over the harbor from so high up! My compadres learned of this & were so scared, they _rabbited _out of town, taking their loyalty to me & most of my earnings! Worst of all, my darling wife—my _senorita_—Maria had left me, taking my only child, my daughter Rosalita, with her! The woman even remarried soon afterwards, & she & her new husband moved away to God-knows-where with _no_ clues to me of her whereabouts _what_soever!"

"It was a _very _wise decision on _her _part, Gonzales. She & her daughter deserved better."

So infuriated of the Batman were Mitch Mason & Pedro Gonzales, that they let themselves be taken by surprise by the dark, eerie voice which came out of nowhere—a voice that both men knew & loathed all too much, even after a good deal of time away from Gotham.

They knew it as the voice of the Batman.

They cursed themselves for dropping their guard when their unwavering hatred of the urban vigilante clouded their senses, enabling him to get the drop on them.

But now they're ready, poised for battle & clear-headed.

"Show yourself, pendejo!", Pedro sharply demanded.

"As you wish, jefe", Batman calmly replied.

From sixteen feet ahead of the two crime lords, a dark shape rises from behind a parked Sedan & steps into the light of the parking lot. His mere presence repulses the two men when he comes into full view, his blank eyes scowling back at them.

"The freak in the cape!", Mason spat.

"Senor Batman!", Pedro spat as well.

"I see both of you have also turned a deaf ear to my warnings to stay out of my city", scoffed Batman. "Could it be that you scum don't understand the English language very well? Do you need to be told in a foreign one to make you comprehend that none of you are welcome here in my city? Or are you all just as stubborn—and _stupid_—as you seem to be?"

"Do you really believe we would completely turn tail & skip town forever, senor Batman?", Pedro snapped. "After what you _did _to us last time? We were merely biding our time & pooling our resources, waiting in the wings for the perfect moment to return to make Gotham ours again as it once was!"

"As I've hinted to your late partner, Anton Schiavelli, that _isn't _going to happen, Pedro! The _only _way you're…"

"What the _hell _do you mean 'our late partner'?", Mitch interrupted.

Batman smirked. "You heard me, Mason. I just heard over the radio that Anton Schiavelli had been taken out by rival gangs only a short while ago."

Mitch & Pedro looked at each other, all the while keeping their sights on the Batman. This was news to them both, as they've heard nothing of it anywhere. It could be a scheme of their foe as to catch them off their guard again, but they refuse to take the bait.

"A likely story!", Mason barked.

Batman's smirk vanished. "I never said you _had _to believe it, but you _can_ bothbelieve when I say that you're taking over Gotham _over my dead body!_"

Both hoodlums grin from ear to ear.

"We ain't got no problem with _that_, freak!", Mitch says with fiendish glee.

"As you _wish_, jefe!", Pedro says, throwing Batman's words back at him. The Spanish crime lord races at the Dark Knight like a cheetah. Getting five feet from his enemy, Gonzales swings his right fist at Batman, who grabs & squeezes his wrist painfully. Much as it hurts, Pedro ignores it & follows it up with a left leg swung at the vigilante's side. Batman had no time to avoid the blow, as it comes at him fast & hard, feeling like someone jammed a 2-by-4 into him. Pushing the pain aside, he flings Pedro over his shoulder & into a parked car, landing on the roof with an echoing sound, his hat flying odd his head. Gonzales swung his right foot at Batman's throat which would've crushed his windpipe, had the Caped Crusader been a second slow. He then lunges full-bodied at Batman, with both hands grabbing his neck & forming a tight grip on them. _This _caught Batman by surprise, almost forgetting that Pedro Gonzales' fighting speed & prowess are second only to the Dark Knight himself.

"You're a dead _gringo_, Batman!", Pedro spat, squeezing his enemy's throat with his hands. "I will crush the _life _out of you, pendejo!"

"Not…_tonight_…you won't!", Batman growled through clenched teeth & a raspy breath. In a powerful kick of his own, Batman rams his foot into Pedro's stomach, knocking the wind out of him. As the Spanish crime boss releases his hold on his foe & gasps for breath, Batman follows it up with a swift & powerful backhand that knocks Gonzales to the ground, his hands on where Batman had kicked him, forcing air back into his lungs.

"Nice maneuvers, freak! Now it's _my _turn!", Mitch Mason says, charging after Batman like a rhino, his fists raised. Knowing Mason, Batman won't be able to block his blows such as he did with Pedro's—a punch from Mason is like getting punched by a man literally made of stone, & with his stamina, Mason definitely feels as if he really _is _made of stone.

The best he can do is avoid them.

As Mason swung his massive left fist, Batman ducked under the blow & gave out with a powerful right uppercut into Mitch's own stomach that momentarily startles & stuns the mountain-man & gives the detective time to put some distance between them. His punch to Mason's stomach was only a temporary setback, however, as already Mitch spots the Dark Knight standing at a parked green car, unmoving. Enraged & gritting his teeth, Mason charges again at his hated foe at even greater velocity than before.

It doesn't faze Batman in the slightest, as he remains perfectly still, like a statue.

Only when Mitch is practically on top of him does the Dark Knight move by leaping to one side. The sudden move catches Mason by surprise, & unable to slow his charge or momentum, he slams headfirst into the green car's side door with such force that he actually puts a sizeable dent into it, shattering the window into a thousand pieces & lifting the car about a foot off the ground before coming down again.

The hit in the head made even Mason see stars in his vision, & he slumps down on his ass.

"I guess I shouldn't be too surprised that _you _would choose to ignore my warning, Mason", Batman says, standing over his fallen foe. "Your head is so thick, I doubt that _anything _can get through it, be it bullets _or _words."

"Let's see instead if _these _get through to _you_!", Mason growls, rising up & taking wild yet carefully skilled swings at Batman, who just avoids getting clobbered. Even the thin stream of blood running down his forehead doesn't slow the man down. "You think I'd let a costumed freak tell _me _how to run my life? What kind of fool do you _take _me for?"

Dodging Mitch's latest blows during his tirade, Batman unloads with punches of his own to his face & chest, putting everything he has into each strike. He moves with grace & speed in an attempt to keep him seeing white stars & disorient him long enough to get the drop on him. It was a task that is easier said than done; Mitch Mason is built tough, inside & out, making it difficult to have him feel any pain for too long.

Mitch can _take _as much punishment as he can dish out, & that was one of the factors which has made him fearful of both friend & foe alike.

He can take a _lot_. Realizing this, Batman needs to change his tactics a little bit if he has any chance of defeating Mason. Pausing his vigorous onslaught briefly, Batman quickly dispenses two marble-sized capsules & throws them down hard on the pavement. Shielding his eyes behind his arm, the twin capsules discharge a bright flash of blinding light which stings Mitch's eyes. As the crime boss rubs his eyes to clear them, Batman leaps back a few feet & rushes forward at Mason, issuing a flying kick to Mason's face. The kick was powerful enough to knock the man back to the green car he hit before, enabling to see more stars in his vision, & then some.

Batman puts a distance of twenty feet from his fallen foe, ready to move (& fight) should Mason get back on his feet sooner than the vigilante would like him to.

"In response to your latter question before, Mason—a real _stupid _one", he says. "Especially if & when he doesn't know when the hell to _quit _while he's ahead!"

"That makes _two _of you, amigo!"

Batman turns to his right just in time to see Pedro Gonzales rush at him, this time armed with a six-inch dagger in each hand. Pedro's nickname is 'Stiletto' for good reason: the man is a skilled professional at handling knives in any & every way possible. He can nail a man in the head from a distance of fifty feet or more away, or gut a man like a fish with almost no effort. It is these traits which make Pedro Gonzales so deadly & dangerous; some victims sometimes don't even _feel _the blade from one of his weapons penetrate their skin until it's far too late.

And there are at times when Pedro _lets _his victims see his blades coming as to put much fear into & make them suffer first, which is exactly what he wants to do with Batman.

Unfortunately for Gonzales, 'wanting' & 'getting' are two very different things, & the Dark Knight has no intention of giving Pedro any satisfaction of showing trepidation of any kind to him—_he's _the one to entice fear into others, not the other way around.

Each slash & swipe of the Spanish crime boss' blades was either avoided or blocked by the Batman, if barely. The Caped Crusader is still unaccustomed as to how fast Gonzales is. That's one of many reasons why Batman wanted him out of Gotham City, aside from the fact that he is a crime kingpin; he can kill anyone from anywhere at any given time as efficiently as any sniper with a rifle, something the Dark Knight won't tolerate.

Any criminal with _that _kind of skill gets thrown out of .

Finally, a lucky break: one of Pedro's knives breaks upon one of Batman's steel-lined gloves, the blade breaking off at the base. A backhanded swat later, & the other knife from Gonzales goes flying from his grip & across the parking lot well out of the kingpin's reach, hidden within the rows of parked cars. Not giving him a chance to regain his wits, Batman grabs Pedro by his collar & pulls him close to his face—so close that Batman can smell & feel the horrid odor of jalapenos upon the Spanish man's breath.

"You should know, Gonzales—this _isn't _any game we're playing!", Batman barked in his face. "When I tell your kind to get the hell out of my city & stay out of it, I expect that order to be carried out _to the letter_! I'm _tired _of repeating myself to scum like you, & my tolerance for your disobedience & tomfoolery is at an end! This is my _definite _last warning—_get out of my city! You have until midnight to do as I say, & if you're _not_ gone by then, the penalties will be severe! Do you hear me?_"

While Batman was threatening him, Pedro stealthily slips another blade concealed into his right sleeve & into his hand. With a swift & powerful jab, he thrusts the blade into Batman's leg, causing the Caped Crusader to yell out in pain & surprise, releasing his grip on Gonzales. Pulling the blade out, Pedro then cuts the Dark Knight across the chest, leaving a five-inch, bleeding cut across where his bat-insignia is.

The stab & cut make Batman dizzy & disoriented, his vision going blurry.

_That was stupid, Bruce—STUPID!_, Batman thought. _It feels like he hit an artery, & it's your own damned fault! You should've remembered that_ _about Pedro! He's not nicknamed 'Stiletto' for nothing—he _always _has extra knives on his person, & you ought to have known better than to carelessly let him get too close to you!_

Pedro Gonzales laughs wickedly as he addresses Batman. "One thing that you should know about me, senor Batman: when you disarm the weapons that you see in front of you, you should take the time to locate & rid me of my hidden stash on my person! Many foolish Policia in my home country have paid for that error dearly with their _lives_!"

"And _you _get to join them, freak!", Mitch Mason says, having recovered from Batman's flash attack & hauling him up by his cape before flinging him over to another parked car—a dark blue SUV—hitting the front bumper. His leg bleeding like a faucet, Batman was unable to fight back as he fights to stay conscious from the loss of blood & white in his vision. Even so, he can still see Pedro & Mitch approach, the former with a new gleaming knife in his hand, ready to finish what he started.

"This is too good to be true!", Mitch says as he & Pedro stand six feet away from the fallen vigilante, gloating over their triumph. "I can see the headlines now: The mighty Batman—taken out by crime kingpins Mitch Mason & Pedro Gonzales! It looks as if there _is _a Santa Claus after all, Pedro!"

"Ho-ho-ho, compadre!", Gonzales says, enticing chuckles from both men.

"Now the big question is, what shall we _do _with the freak? Grind his bones to powder? Gut him like a fish? Cut him up into little pieces? So many choices, so little time!"

"I have an idea! We will make an example of him! I shall sever his head & present it to the inmates at Arkham Asylum! Once they see the men who has taken the Batman out of the equation, you, Frank Pileggi, & I will _rule _Gotham City!"

"And once the police & the Batman's partners find out that their champion has fallen by our hands, they, too, will succumb to our power!"

"Indeed, compadre Mitch: if we can take down the Batman, then Robin & the other costumed heroes of Gotham won't stand a _chance_ against us! Face it, amigo—we have Gotham City in our _pockets_!"

Mitch & Pedro let out a boisterous, maniacal laugh that echoes throughout the parking lot. Batman fights the pain of Gonzales' wounds, holding the puncture in his leg with his hand for all the good it will do him currently. He's really messed up, more so than usual: he's weak from blood loss, his vision is a swirl of white with occasional spots, & soon his enemies are going to sever his head from his body—an act he'll be powerless to prevent.

But aside from his condition, Batman can still see well enough to notice movement beyond his criminal captors, coming from underneath a parked car. In fact, he sees movement coming out from _several _cars: puddles of blue-green liquid that seem to have a life of their own. They were ten feet away from behind the two crime lords when they silently start rising to a height of six or seven feet, each one taking a humanoid shape.

Mitch Mason & Pedro Gonzales aren't even aware of their presence.

"…behind you…", Batman says weakly, fighting to stay awake & blurt the words out for as much as his current condition allows him, pointing.

The two men were unimpressed, let alone intimidated.

"Behind us, you say?", Mitch mocks. "Come on, freak! Do you _really _think we're that stupid? Sorry, but you're gonna have to do much better than _that_!"

"Si, pendejo! You're only trying to delay the inevitable!", Pedro says, his blade gleaming in the parking lot's light at his face, a toothy grin flashing across.

Then the grin vanishes, for his blade reflects something _else _besides the lights overhead. The Spanish mob boss gets a glimpse of it from his weapon's reflection, & he spins around a full 180 degrees to see the nightmare now before him.

"_M-Madre de mios! _What in the hell is _this_?", Pedro shouted, his eyes going wide in fear.

Mitch Mason turns around himself, hearing the terror in Gonzales' voice, & he, too, faces the horrible sight before him. Both crime lords were staring at a batch of living humanoid blobs—four in all—at a height of around six feet. Each creature kept getting closer at a leisurely pace to the two men & Batman. Their glow was like a lava lamp, & reflected off everyone's clothing.

"Whatever they are, they're going _down_!", Mason said, unfazed by the creature's sudden appearance, believing it to be some new trick from Batman to try & save his life, especially since the crime lords have him at their mercy. His hands clenched into fists, Mason rushes at the nearest one, ready to bring it down with only a few blows, or even with one like he usually does.

That was when the horror show began: upon contact Mitch made with the liquid creature, he felt pain in his hand such as he's never felt before, which quickly spread throughout his entire body. It felt like the souls of everyone he ever killed with his own two hands have arisen from the dead & attacked Mitch with a vengeance. The blue-green liquid monstrosity started dissolving the now-screaming crime lord, eating his flesh away, revealing the man's muscle tissue, veins, bones, & inner organs all over. Mitch Mason's physical form melted away & the dying man shrank like a balloon releasing the gas it had been filled with. What seemed like an eternity to Pedro Gonzales & Batman was in reality only several moments. The only thing left of Mitch Mason was the suit he wore, along with a service revolver he never got to use, located in his ankle where his socks are.

_So _that's _what happened to Anton Schiavelli shortly after I left his suite at Gotham Plaza!_, Batman thought, contemplating what Nightwing relayed to him between then & now. _He hadn't been taken out by rival gangs—these 'things' were the cause of his demise, & that of his people! It would seem the warehouse incident & this are all connected, like Dick had surmised!_

The creature that killed Mitch Mason rose again, & now its sights were set on Pedro, whose heart was palpitating like crazy upon seeing his partner in crime melt away like a stick of butter in a frying pan over a hot stove. His mouth was agape, & his breath came out in short, panicked gasps. Gonzales knew that his knife would be of no defense against something as mutable/pliable as the monsters before him: if they can dissolve an extremely tough hombre like Mitch Mason with ease, then a slim Hispanic man will not stand a snowball's chance in Hell against them, & his fighting skills would be useless.

Pedro gets enough strength & nerve to make his feet move &, totally ignoring Batman, he races off to the underground elevator as the four liquid creatures turn in his direction & follow in pursuit, going at a snail's pace, paying Batman no mind (for the moment,anyway).

Reaching the elevator, Pedro frantically pushes the 'up' button as he looks over his shoulder to see his inhuman pursuers caching up to him, even if they weren't speed demons. But that was no comfort to Gonzales: until he's far away from these liquid flesh-eating monsters, he won't be able to relax, much less calm down.

His already galloping heart beats even faster.

"_Open! Please, for the love of God…OPEN!_", Pedro shouts hysterically, pressing the button which will (he hopes) take him to safety while keeping his sights on the creatures in slow but sure pursuit.

_DING!_

The sound of the bell chiming & elevator doors opening gave Gonzales an enormous sigh of relief as he turned to head into the elevator for safety & freedom.

But as soon as the elevator doors opened, Batman saw a sight that made his own heart stop beating for a millisecond.

"Pedro, don't…!", he shouted, using what strength he still had left.

Even if Pedro hadn't ignored him, it was too late: the Spanish crime boss basically threw himself into the elevator, which became his biggest & final mistake. His ticket to freedom became his tomb, for standing right inside was _another _of the horrid creatures that engulfed itself on the panicked Hispanic. Pedro didn't even have one second to scream when the humanoid blob began doing the same to him what one of the quartet of mutable monstrosities had done to Mitch Mason, bringing him down as if he were a wax candle over a flame. And just like Mason, all that was left of Pedro Gonzales were his red & white zoot suit & several knives he had hidden that had all clanged to the floor.

During his crimefighting carreer, Batman has seen some rather gruesome horrors—namely the Ebola Gulf-A plague outbreak, for instance—but even he has to admit that _this _particular terror takes the cake; he has just witnessed two people get attacked by monsters in human form that kill their victims by literally eating their flesh & dissolve them down to nothing, & while he just put two & two together, it won't do him a speck of good if he doesn't get out of there & warn his colleagues about this new brand of terror Gotham now faces—if it isn't already too late!

And get out of the parking lot he _must_, as the creatures—now five in total—have set their sights on the lone person in the entire area, meaning him, & start their advance towards the Dark Knight. Batman struggles to get to his feet, but the wound Pedro gave him in the leg has opened an artery like he guessed, & the loss of blood has made him weak & sluggish. He used what little strength he had left to try & save Gonzales' life by shouting a warning, but it was all in vain, & he now doesn't have the strength to even get his grapnel & swing out or send a signal on his belt to his Batmobile to race over & pull his ass out of the fire.

His stamina & consciousness ebbing away, Batman closes his eyes & collapses to the pavement as the liquid humans were now only five feet away.

_Alfred…Dick…Tim…Jason…Barbara…Cassandra…Selina_, were the last thoughts running through Batman's head as he goes under into a deep sleep. He could do nothing to prevent the creatures which dissolved & killed Pedro Gonzales & Mitch Mason from doing the same to him.

It looks like this would be the Batman's last hurrah.

A heavy flapping had sounded in the distance, but Batman doesn't even hear it.

**CHAPTER VI**

He can see it happen all over again.

Bruce Wayne is eight years old. He & his parents—Thomas & Martha Wayne—have just stepped out of the movie theatre where 'The Mark of Zorro' has played & come to an end. Bruce loved the character of Zorro—swashbuckling, bold, daring, & fearless. He wished he could be just like him, coming apparently out of nowhere & give criminals the fear that they have always gave ordinary citizens on the streets of Gotham City. His father tells him, 'study real hard & execise every day, Bruce, & you may very well get your wish'.

They continued walking towards home after the movie ended, when Bruce's parents take a slight detour through a dark alleyway. Its darkness frightens Bruce, & he asks his father why they need to go down this awful street.

"It's a shortcut, son", Thomas Wayne says, holding young Bruce's hand as his mother does the same, & together as one they trek through the alleyway without fear. With his parents by his side, there's nothing Bruce Wayne—the only child of Thomas & Martha Wayne—that can scare the boy.

Except _this_: from out of the shadows steps a man holding a revolver in his right hand, pointing it straight at Bruce's Mom & Dad. The man demands that they hand over their money or else he'll shoot them dead. Suddenly, Bruce doesn't feel brave like Zorro is in the movie; he feels much more like the Cowardly Lion in 'The Wizard of Oz', only his fear is increased by ten.

Slowly & carefully, Thomas Wayne pulls out his wallet to give to the crook, who attempts to snatch it & take off with his big score. But he's in for a treat & a shock: as soon as his hand makes contact with Thomas' wallet, the elderly Wayne makes a snatch of his own—the thief's wrist. Just like a striking cobra, Thomas grabs the thug & painfully squeezes & twists his gun wrist as hard as he can, making the would-be thief release his weapon & drop it to the ground where Martha rapidly kicks it out of the thug's reach.

But the danger wasn't over yet.

Even deprived of his weapon, the thief begins to chuckle slightly before it becomes an uproarious guffaw. It sends a chill up everyone's spine, because this sinister laughter is different from anything they've heard before; even the villains from 'Zorro' don't sound like _that_.

Now, not only is Bruce afraid, his parents are too. They have no clue as to what the thief who wishes to rob them will do next. Does he have another gun on him he wishes to pull? Will he put down Thomas & rape Martha right in front of him & Bruce before killing off all three? Will he take them all hostage somewhere, demanding a multi-million-dollar ransom? Or does he plan to do it all, & more?

So many horrible scenarios, & no idea as to which the thug might think of going for first.

That's when the thief drops off all his clothes in the shadows.

It gets made clear to them that the crook will try to attempt rape on Martha Wayne.

Not if Thomas can help it; he boldly steps in front of his wife & son & clenches his fists in an attempt to fight it out with the would-be rapist, vowing to protect the ones he loves with every fiber of his being. If this animal wants to perform vulgar sex with his wife, he'll have to get through him first—something he's _not _gonna let happen.

But what steps out from the darkness isn't a man at all. It was something more terrible than even the scariest horror movie they could think of—it was a six-foot-tall humanoid _blob_, consitiing of a bluish-green liquid that glowed like the rear of a firefly. It had no toes, hands with fingers, or even a _face_, yet it saw them clearly in the darkness of the alley. Its massive arms rose & aimed them at Thomas & Martha, looking like a mutable Frankenstein. Then they shot out like living snakes, striking faster than one, & engulfing both elder Waynes in seconds. They try to scream, but no sound would come out from their mouths. All a terrified Bruce heard were muffled sounds, & even those lasted only moments before his parents start disintegrating before his eyes. He wants to scream himself, but his efforts are futile. It's as if the creature was covering _his _mouth with its killer ichor.

In what seemed like forever, Thomas & Martha Wayne were taken from young Bruce's life, their clothes, jewelry, & other personal valuables lying on the filth-riddled street in the alleyway as the only pieces of evidence indicating that Bruce Wayne's parents were ever here.

Now he's all alone to face the thing that so vehemently & violently claimed their lives.

But Bruce was in no shape to combat the creature that looms before him, even if he felt an enormous amount of hatred & anger for the pliable monster. Strangely, it doesn't attack him right away, as Bruce first suspected. Instead, its head begins to form what appears to be a face of sorts, & it sprouts a pair of expressionless eyes devoid of irises, an abnormally long nose, & a hideous grin not unlike what a clown might have. The top sprouted what resembled a head of hair.

Its hideous face started laughing maniacally & uncontrollably at Bruce.

Then it launched itself at him, causing Bruce to scream in horror.

Bruce woke up in an instant, yelling briefly as he basically sprang up from where he lay. He half-suspected to be taken to Heaven or even Hell, but he awoke to a place he has called home all his life since the death of his beloved parents.

Dressed in his costume with his mask pulled off his face, Bruce wakes up in the Batcave. He rests on one of the cave's collapsible cots, his scream echoing the place as he works to slow down his breathing & wipes the sweat from his face. Attached to his arm & leg is a needle with a tube which is connected to a pack of fresh plasma hanging on a metal post, exactly like the ones hospitals use.

"Ah, Sleeping Beauty finally awakens", said a voice with a British accent, who now steps into view, along with two others.

"Alfred? Nightwing? Catwoman?", Bruce says, relaying the names of those accompanying the cave in the order they appear. The latter two also had their masks removed, revealing their true faces of Dick Grayson & Selina Kyle, but leave the rest of their costumes on.

"That's _us_, Bruce", Dick said.

"Welcome back", Selina says.

"How long was I out for?", asked Bruce, shaking his head to clear the cobwebs in it.

"Two days, Master Bruce", said Alfred, walking up to him & removing the needles from his arm & leg.

_Two days?_, thought Bruce, solemnly. _It felt more like two months, or even two years!_

"Do you recall what happened, sir?", Alfred asks.

In his mind, foggy as it may currently be, Bruce remembers snippets of his encounters with crime bosses Anton Schiavelli at the Gotham Plaza Hotel, followed by Mitch Mason & Pedro Gonzales in the underground parking lot at Wayne Enterprises. The grim recollection that Bruce goes through in moments gets him back on track, his demeanor all business.

"Dick, Selina", he begins, "we've got ourselves an even bigger problem than the gang bosses attempting to take control of Gotham's underworld. There are…"

"We know, Bruce", Dick stepped in. "Selina & I saw the same things you no doubt have seen yourself when we caught up with Frank Pileggi & his boys. These 'liquid humans' came out of nowhere & had an all-you-can-eat buffet on Pileggi & company—and almost _us_, too. We even got a call from Huntress about it, saying that two of the creatures killed two members of Mr. Freeze's gang when he robbed the Diamond Exchange on Wall Street."

"What about Mason & Gonzales?", Selina asks. "They suffer the same fate?"

Bruce nodded. "I'm afraid so, Selina."

"That's too bad."

"It could've been worse. I would've _joined_ them, had it not been for both your interventions, & for that, I thank you."

Dick & Selina look to each other with a smile, then turn back to Bruce.

"Oh, I don't think you ought to be thanking _us _for your miraculous rescue, lover", said Selina.

Bruce raised his eyebrows a pinch. "If it wasn't either of you who saved me, then _who_?"

Now it was Alfred who flashes a smile. "I believe it is _her _who should share that credit, sir."

Alfred gestured with his hand to where Bruce's mysterious savior was standing—in the shadows of the cave at a far corner. As Alfred gestured with his hand & soothing voice to come out into the open, Bruce sees a young Caucasian teenage girl, standing at five feet & five inches tall with short black hair & brown eyes. She wears an outfit of black, which includes a cape hung over her shoulders, & a mask that is removed & hanging in back like Bruce's. As a child, she made her first & only kill when she took the life of a Macauan crime lord by ripping his throat out using only her bare hands. Her father—assassin David Cain—had taught her to become a living weapon & carry out his legacy, despite being incapable of human speech. But the kill she committed made her feel guilty beyond measure, & she fled her father's care & traveled the world, beginning her long, fruitful search for a new home & way of life. After several years, she finally found her calling in Gotham City before, during, & after the great earthquake which leveled all but a few buildings. She took the mantle of Batgirl (a role once belonging to Jim Gordon's daughter Barbara before getting shot & paralyzed by the Joker), & wore it like a glove, becoming the greatest martial artist in the world, surpassing even Batman himself & Sandra Woosan, a.k.a. Lady Shiva, the latter of whom this girl went to in an attempt to reclaim her fighting skill after an encounter with Jeffers, a powerful psychic, who offered the ability of speech to her, but losing her fighting prowess until she singlehandedly fought & defeated Lady Shiva in hand-to-hand combat.

Her costume complete with a yellow Bat insignia on her chest & a utility belt around her waist, she is Cassandra Cain—the new Batgirl.

A little smile comes across Bruce's lips.

"Hello again, Cassandra", he says. "I'm told I have _you _to thank for my rescue against the liquid creatures that attacked at Wayne Enterprises."

"That would be the truth. And…you're quite welcome", Cassandra said.

"You saw these creatures before coming to my aide?"

"Yes. After seeing those creatures in my part of town, I went to seek assistance from Dick & Selina to combat them, which proved to be quite…difficult when they can appear & disappear at will. Dick tried to contact you, but lost his communicator in his fight with Pileggi."

"Actually", Dick cut in, "it got destroyed when Frank got in a lucky shot. _That's _why I had no way of warning you about those liquid monsters. Luckily, Cassandra showed up right after the horror show happened at Gotham University. Once I filled her in on the situation, she raced over to Wayne Enterprises…& the rest you know."

"Only that I awoke here in the cave", said Bruce, turning to Cassandra. "How did you manage to carry me all the way back to the cave, Cassandra?"

"I used your belt to give a signal to your car & drive itself over so that it can take you home to the cave, safe & secure", Cassandra explains.

"What happened to the liquid humans after you got me to safety?"

"They disappeared almost as suddenly as they were there. I spent over an hour trying to find them, but…no such luck. Thankfully, there were no more casualties in or around Wayne Enterprises. I saw to that."

_Thank God_, Bruce said to himself, relieved. _That meant that Lucius & everyone else is fine, & those creatures didn't enter the building._

"You did very good, Cassandra", Bruce says aloud. "Once again, I'm in your debt. However, I need to point out that we face a threat unlike any we've encountered previously. We need to find out what they are, where they come from…"

"Already done, Master Bruce", Alfred interrupted. "For the last two nights while you were in a rather…comatose condition, Master Dick & Miss Kyle & Cassandra patrolled the city streets of Gotham as I took the liberty of researching on any & all files concerning those ghastly 'liquid humans', sir."

"What have you found out, Alfred?", Bruce asked.

"Allow me, Alfred", Dick cut in as the loyal butler nodded. "Bruce, I'm afraid this _isn't _the first time these things appeared in the world. That goes back to 50 years ago in Tokyo, Japan, from the classified files of Dr. Masada & the late Police Detective Tominaga. According to them, the whole incident started when, weeks before, a Japanese ship called the Ryujin Maru II got caught in the midst of an atomic bomb blast, somewhere in the South Pacific. Masada, in the field of studying the effects of radiation, discovered that the blast have turned all those aboard the Ryujin Maru II into the monstrosities we've faced two nights previous. Detective Tominaga, on the other hand, was in the midst of a mob rivalry between two opposing gang members in Tokyo. Strangely enough, their separate cases converge into one as the liquid humans began attacking people at a Cabaret, a popular hangout for the aforementioned gangsters. According to Professor Maki, the radiation from the atomic blast had caused an abnormal reaction to those unfortunates on the Ryujin Maru II, turning them into the creatures with every ounce of their iotas intact. He also stated that the only two effective countermeasures against these mutable monsters are a high electrical charge or a high intensity flame, the latter of which they had used to finally rid the city of their threat to mankind. Unfortunately, Professor Maki also stated that such a creature could one day rise again—like right now, with Gotham City being their new hunting grounds."

"Not for long, Dick", Bruce said, rising up & off the cot, the wound in his leg stitched & the pain all but subsided. "Now that we know what was used to defeat them 50 years ago, we'll have little or no difficulty in taking them down."

"Not only that, sir", Alfred cut in, "I do believe we know of the motive of the robbery which was committed at Wayne Enterprises days ago."

"I believe we _do_, Alfred", said Bruce, placing his mask back over his head. "Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez were both forced to steal the deuterium, tritium, lithium, plutonium, & strontium 90—all the elements of making an atomic bomb—to turn the components into a deadly gas that killed the near-hundred people at the warehouse in Chinatown several nights ago, thus turning them all into the same creatures Tokyo faced five decades previous. What we're _still _in the dark about is who masterminded it, let alone why these creatures would go after the likes of Anton & the others."

"This might shed _some_ light, Bruce", Dick said, placing his own mask back into place, with Selina & Cassandra doing the same. "Do you recall a court case involving Mitch Mason & the Hollis family?"

"Sheldon & Sherry Hollis?"

"The same. Sheldon & Sherry claimed that Mason had killed their first of two sons, Brian, aged at 19 years old, during a shootout Mason instigated at Gotham's Upper East Side with rival gangs. Unfortunately for the Hollises, lack of evidence of any kind forced the case to be dropped, & Mason was allowed to go free."

"And I'm inclined to add, sir", Alfred says, "that Sheldon & Sherry Hollis are two of the victims of the warehouse incident. I took the liberty of compiling their names as you requested, & it would seem that each one of them has suffered a grave misfortune by each of the following crime lords which you all were trying to drive out of town in one form or another. I fear that these creatures remember who they were & are trying to justify their actions with vengeance, sir."

"That makes sense, old friend", Batman says. "Just before murdering them, whoever is behind it all probably goaded those people into a vengeful stage, & then their pent-up emotions remained & were released after they were transformed into the liquid humans."

"You should feel _sorry _for them, Bruce", Catwoman said. "From what Alfred, Dick, & even Cassandra here read about those poor people, they've been wronged brutally & never gotten any justice delivered to them. It seems they're only attempting to get what they deserve by taking care of the likes of Schiavelli, Mason, & all the rest."

Nightwing looks sharply at Catwoman. "Selina, are you clearly suggesting that we allow these monsters to devour the criminals in Gotham City?"

"They're not monsters, junior—they're human beings, & they need justice done for them."

"We don't _do _things that way, Selina. First of all, they're _not _human. Not anymore. Secondly, what they've done to Schiavelli & the others _isn't _justice. It's revenge, & that's completely different by our standards. And thirdly, my name's not 'junior'—don't forget that."

Catwoman scowls slightly at Nightwing's tone, not appreciating being spoken to in that manner. She sideswipes it & turns to Batman. "Bruce, surely _you_ of all people here can understand the motives of these liquid humans, yes?"

"Actually, I'm afraid I must agree with Dick."

Catwoman's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets. "_What? _But I thought…"

Batman approaches Catwoman, gently places his hands on her shoulders & starts to explain things to her calmly. "Selina, while I was angry beyond belief when my parents were killed by an unknown assailant, my _real _motive to my crusade against crime is serving justice. I fight whenever I can to ensure that no one suffers the same fate as I—and even Dick—endured all those years ago. _That's _why we do what we do: justice, _not _vengeance, is our objective. So, yes, I _do _feel sorry for the victims killed at the warehouse in Chinatown, but I feel even _more _sorry for the deaths they've so far caused, even if those killed _are _criminals. I've known you a long time, Selina: as sly & sneaky as you are & even brutal sometimes in combat, you've never killed, let alone _allowed _anyone to _get _killed when it was in your power to prevent it. Am I right?"

Catwoman knew that Batman was right. Even in the days when she & Batman were at odds with each other, him as the white hat & her as the thief, she has never taken a life. She even _saved_ several during the great earthquake, up to & including the Justice League of America when the villain Prometheus attempted to take down the whole squadron of heroes in their first encounter with the 'Anti-Batman', as he's sometimes referred to.

Whether as a thief or as a crimefighter, Selina Kyle is no killer.

"You are, Bruce—as usual", Catwoman says sincerely, passionately giving Batman a quick but heartfelt hug, with the Caped Crusader doing the same.

She turns to Nightwing. "No hard feelings, Grayson?"

Nightwing smiles. "None whatsoever."

"Glad to hear it", Catwoman says. "Now, how about finding a cure for those unfortunate victims & turning them back to normal & _end _this nightmare?"

Nightwing's smile vanishes from his face. "I don't think there _is _a cure for their 'condition', Selina."

"But…there _has _to be a way to reverse what ails them, right?"

"While your humanitary compassion _is_ highly appreciated, I'm afraid I must concur with young Master Dick, Miss Kyle", Alfred says. "You read the files of these liquid humans yourself, & if you might recall, the notes from Dr. Masada & Detective Tominaga never revealed any specific details or plans on curing those who have become these pliable threats."

"Then, the only course of action left to defeat them is by…", Batgirl starts.

"Yes, Batgirl", Batman continued. "It may be bad enough that they've suffered greatly when they were all human & made worse by being turned into these monstrosities, but we can't fix the damage done to their persons. Therefore, while it galls me to even think of it, there's really no other course of action: we _need _to take them down before they overrun Gotham City & beyond, using the two methods of electrocution & incineration with high flames."

"Luckily, sir, I've been quite busy with equipping you all with gadgets & weaponry in deploying both means of attack", Alfred said.

"Good work. Thank you, Alfred. They'll indeed come in quite handy."

"I aim to please, sir", said the butler with a smile.

"Now all we need to do is to find them", Batgirl says.

"We will, Batgirl", Nightwing said. "If they're still within city limits, they'll be found."

"That's considering _if _these monsters are still inside of Gotham", Catwoman said matter of factly.

"They will be, Catwoman", Batgirl says. "Vengeance is a very powerful emotion. It can easily override everything else, especially when an individual has nothing to lose."

_Just ask Helena Bertinelli, the Huntress_, Nightwing thought. _She can tell you a thing or two about vengeance._

"And considering what those unfortunate souls went through before & after their metamorphosis", Nightwing says aloud, "vengeance is primarily all those people have _left_."

"That only makes them ten times _more _dangerous, Master Dick", said Alfred. "With quite a large number of criminals & lawbreakers in Gotham, it may be difficult for even Master Bruce to predict just where they'll strike next. Am I right, sir?"

"Quite possibly, Alfred", said Batman, walking over to the main computer, sits in the chair, & begins typing the keyboard. "As you all know, crime breeds like rabbits in Gotham City, so it's next to impossible to pinpoint or deduce on where these liquid creatures will appear."

"So you can't decide where to go next?", Batgirl asked with worry in her voice.

"Don't lose hope, Batgirl. We'll find a…wait a minute."

"Find something promising, sir?", asked Alfred as he, Nightwing, Catwoman, & Batgirl all approached the computer. It displayed a picture of a young man in his early twenties, with a mini-dossier on the side.

It was a face Nightwing recognized.

"I know that face", he says, pointing at the screen. "That's Simon Stewell. Like the Hollises, he got cheated of justice when Anton Schiavelli killed his dad for a drug deal gone bad. Because he was working for Anton, the courts turned offered no sympathies to Simon & turned a deaf ear at his pleas to not take him away from his mother & placed in a foster home. That was ten years ago, & time was never kind to him as he grew up. His most recent heartbreak was when his mother became one of the many casualties during Gotham's three-day gang war, making his emotional trauma even worse."

"Not only that", Batman adds, "Simon was recently arrested by Gotham police for arson at a Diamond District Center in the city's Upper East Side. When the cops arrested him, Simon claims at not being one of the perpetrators, but saw who actually _did _cause it."

"A false accusement, if ever I've heard of one, sir", said Alfred. "I take it the courts were just as unsympathetic to young Simon's pleads of being innocent of the crime, sir?"

"That was the case, Alfred. Because of his father's one-time employment with Anton Schiavelli, they sentenced Simon to a year in juvenile hall after being convicted. Even his confession of who committed the crime didn't make the courts deter their decision."

"Could be that Simon finally had the chance to make Anton pay for having his father killed", said Catwoman. "It wouldn't surprise me if he _was _one of the liquid humans who did him in at his suite at Gotham Plaza two nights ago."

"He may also try & go for the ones who unfairly arrested him. While I search for names, I want you, Alfred, to scan the city using the Wayne-Tech communications satellite. Have it scan for any traces of…"

"Any traces of unusual radiation readings, sir. Got it", Alfred finishes. "It will take me several minutes to get it ready, but consider it done."

Immediately Alfred heads off to carry out his order as Batman searches the rest of Simon Stewell's file to find the names of any police officers who were responsible for the young man's arrest over a year ago. If any officer was in immediate danger of being dissolved & killed by the liquid humans' rampage of Gotham, he would make it his first priority over the criminals who prey on society. Some folks would deem that notion unfair, but since Batman is short on troops, resources, & time, he didn't really have much of a choice.

"Found it", Batman said after thirty seconds.

"So then, who foolishly busted Simon Stewell?", Nightwing asked mockingly.

The names of the officers turned out to be just one, & it was a name Batman & the others were all familiar with.

Unfortunately, it also sent a chill up their spines, with Batman receiving the brunt of the chill, & his eyes went wider than everyone else's.

"Oh, no…", he says in a whisper colder than what his spine was experiencing.

In one tenth of a heartbeat, Batman flew out fo his seat from the main computer & raced to the Batmobile , praying he won't be too late.

At his home in the Gotham suburbs, Police Commissioner James Gordon resided in his kitchen, sharing a scotch from his personal stash in the cupboard. He shares a glass with fellow officer Ricky Schmidt, a man with dark gray hair who still wears his uniform, while Jim is attired in his tan trenchcoat, brown pants, black shoes, white undershirt, & red tie. His gun is placed in its holster across his chest, with Ricky's is holstered on his belt. Ricky Schmidt is in his late fifties, & is a veteran of two wars: Vietnam, & the first Gulf War in Iraq back in 1991. When the second Iraq war erupted a few years ago, Ricky wished to go serve, but after joining the G.C.P.D. after the first war, Schmidt simply couldn't abandon Jim Gordon & his loyal squadron of officers—Harvey Bullock, Renee Montoya, & so forth. They've been friends for over a decade & a half, staying by each other through thick & thin, from the Ebola Gulf-A outbreak to the earthquake to the recent gang war that lasted a horrid three days. Ricky is forever grateful to be among Gordon's team, & abandoning him now, even to help serve his country, would be a total violation of his gratitude to him, having placed him as one of his commanding officers.

But while he was as tough as nails whether serving his country or being a vital part of the G.C.P.D., Ricky Schmidt is also known for having a bizarre sense of humor, a talent he displays now for Jim's amusement.

"…and so the doctor says, 'Rectum? Son, it nearly _killed _him'!", he jokes, getting a boisterous laugh from Gordon & himself (as that was always one of Schmidt's favorites!) before settling down & clanging their glasses, gulping their beverage in a single shot.

"Ricky, regardless of how dirty or clean your jokes may be, I'll never be able to stop myself from laughing at them", Gordon says. "No matter what the circumstances are at the station, we can always count on you to enlighten the usually gloomy Police Headquarters up a notch."

"Just call me the Robin Williams of the G.C.P.D., Jim. I'll turn that frown upside down", Schmidt says impersonating his voice as the famed comedian before making it sound exactly like Jimmy Durante. "Heh-heh-heh-heh! I got a _million _of 'em!"

Gordon chuckled. "You sure do, Ricky, & you've hardly ever failed in your attempts. God help us; with things as they are recently—the three-day gang war, for example—we can certainly _use _a good laugh to keep our morale high up."

That was when Ricky changed his tone from comical to serious. "Jim, listen to me for a minute. I know things are tough all over in Gotham now more than ever, but what really keps our morales high isn't my jokes to brighten the gloom. It's knowing that we can count on each other in times of crisis. We pulled through disasters like No Man's Land because we're a unit, & whatever else comes our way, we'll face it together. Always remember, Jim: the G.C.P.D. is a helluva lot more than just a police force—it's a _family_, one that any & every officer can be proud of."

Gordon sighs & nodded. "That is one of two families I missed very much, Ricky. After my near-fatal shooting by rogue cop Jordan Rich, a.k.a. Jordan Reynolds, I never thought I'd return to my 'home away from home', if you will. I thought that that was the end of not only my career, but my _life_. For practically all of it, being a cop was the only kind of life I've ever known to live."

"Is that why you were reinstated as Commissioner?", asked Schmidt.

"I don't know if it _is_, Ricky. All I know is that they reinstated me, & I get the job back which made me what I am today. Let me ask you, Ricky: if I wasn't Commissioner, would that make me any less of a cop than I am now?"

Schmidt walks around the table they sit at & places an arm on Jim's shoulders. "Jim, it don't matter to me if you're Police Commissioner or just a regular flatfoot walking the beat. You're on the G.C.P.D. force again, & that's what really counts. Ask anyone that same question at the station, & I'll bet you their answer will be no different than mine."

Gordon grins. "Coming from you, Ricky, that means everything." He glances at the clock on the wall out of the corner of his eye. "Listen, I'd hate to have to cut your visit short, but it's getting near eleven &…"

"I understand, Jim, & you're right—it _is _getting late", Ricky states, checking the time on the clock himself. "Time to spend some quality time with the wife & kids, huh? Oh, Jim: we're having Thanksgiving at my wife's parent's house this Thursday, & we'd sure love to have you. Would you care to join us?"

"You know something, Ricky? I'd _love _to do that."

"Excellent! I'll call you Thursday morning at around nine."

"I'll be here. Good night, Ricky."

"You too, Jim."

Ricky gives Gordon a farewell wave & exits the kitchen, leaving the Police Commissioner all alone in his house. It's been that way for Jim since his wife—Detective/Sergeant Sarah Essen-Gordon—was shot & killed by the Joker during No Man's Land when the Clown Prince of Crime kidnapped all the babies who were born during Gotham's awful year & Sarah followed him over to Police HQ in an attempt to murder not only the babies, but hope. In a blind fit of rage, Jim leveled his gun at the Joker, wanting to blow his brains out in retaliation for his wife, but Batman managed to talk him out of it, reminding him of who & what he is. Instead, Jim shot the clown in his kneecaps, paying Joker back for paralyzing his daughter Barbara. In an ironic twist of fate, it had been Gordon himself who prevented Batman from killing the Joker after he had seemingly killed his alter ego's childhood friend Thomas Elliot, who, unknown at the time, had staged it to make it look like the Clown Prince of Crime had committed the act.

The crippling of Barbara & death of Sarah has taken a toll on his soul, but like his masked friend, having experienced tragedies of his own, he still keeps going, never giving up for good, & always willing to go that extra mile to right wrongs and/or save lives. It's these aspects that have made him strong, & bond an even stronger friendship with Gotham's grim but fearless guardian.

Thinking of Sarah, especially with Thanksgiving Day four days away, made Gordon shed a heartfelt tear, knowing he (again) won't be spending it with her.

Only a few seconds go by when Jim suddenly hears three shots fired from inside his home.

"Ricky?", he calls out, grabbing his gun from its holster & rushing out into the entranceway where the shots were heard from. As he steps out of his kitchen, Gordon points his weapon to fire when he's suddenly faced with a horrifying sight: a humanoid blob of glowing blue-green liquid standing at the door Ricky opened to leave, who still pumps bullets into the thing as they pass right on through it, its slow but sure advance towards Ricky & Gordon unhindered.

"What the _devil_…?", Gordon shouts as Ricky's gun goes dry.

"Gordon! Get out of here! _Now_!", Ricky shouted back, fumbling with trembling hands to slap a fresh magazine clip. He only goes so far as pulling the clip out of his pocket, never getting the chance to inject it in his weapon: the liquid monster immerses itself over Ricky as the doomed officer screams out his death throes.

"_Rickeee!_", Jim yelled, seeing with eyes agape his good friend for over a decade & a half get engulfed & devoured alive as his flesh, bones, & inner organs disintegrate before Gordon's eyes, leaving only his policeman's uniform & accessories behind on the floor.

With Ricky Schmidt gone & just a memory, the living liquid horror now advances toward Gordon himself, who watches in petrified terror at the thing for three seconds before finally getting his feet to obey his mental commands. Forgetting the gun he holds in his hand, Gordon races in the opposite direction of the creature that killed his friend, running on & fueled by hysterical adrenaline. He heads for the backyard through the sliding doors, nearly forgetting to open & crash right into them.

He also forgets to close them afterwards, & the liquid monster exits Jim's home & enters his backyard, trapping him but good.

Gordon curses his stupidity: not only does he forget to close the doors behind him, he heads into a literal dead end, as his backyard has surrounding wooden walls—walls that are too high to climb up & over, even if he wasn't scared out of his mind with his heart hammering in his chest.

Jim has trapped himself!

Turning around, he sees the humanoid blob in his yard, still advancing. Gordon points his gun at it, but lowers it, realizing the futility; if Schmidt's weapon couldn't slow it down, let alone stop it, what chance would Jim have? Hyperventilating like mad, the Police Commissioner gets all weak in the knees & falls to the ground, feeling as helpless as his wheelchair-bound daughter.

Then everything went dark for Jim all around.

But he was still alive; he knew he was, because Gordon heard the sound of a fire burning & he even smelled the smoke. These factors tell him that life was still his to have, when the darkness which abruptly consumed him now subsides, & Gordon sees a small bonfire where the liquid creature was only seconds before, now reduced to a pile of harmless & inert ashes underneath the fire that burned it to death.

"Are you all right, Jim?", asked a deep but concerned voice.

Looking up, Gordon saw a tall, physically fit individual in gray & blue, with a black bat insignia emblazed on his chest & a yellow metal belt around his waist. A blue cape hung from his shoulders, & the majority of his face was covered by a mask with pointed ears on top.

It was a face (albeit mysteriously) that James Gordon was glad to see in his time of need.

"Batman!", he says, taking an offered blue-gloved hand that effortlessly helped him back on his feet. "Thank God you're here!"

"Are you hurt?", Batman asked.

"No. Thanks to you I'm still alive, but…what in the hell _was _that thing?", Gordon says, pointing to the small fire where Jim's would-be killer lays. "What the devil is going on here?"

"A nightmare", Batman flatly stated. "Jim, we have a _very _serious problem on our hands."

Gordon studied his friend for only a moment or two before speaking.

"Let's get inside."

For the next five minutes in Gordon's kitchen, Batman quickly but carefully explained the grisly situation to the Police Commissioner of the liquid humans they've battled for the past two nights, ranging from their point of origin in Tokyo in 1958 to their resurgence in Gotham City, caused by the theft of stolen WayneTech chemicals used to commit homicide at the warehouse in Chinatown by a still-unknown assailant. He also explained to Jim that the mutable creatures have gone & hunted down crime bosses Anton Schiavelli, Frank Pileggi, Mitch Mason, & Pedro Gonzales, the latter two of whom Batman himself had the misfortune of seeing their grisly fates met by the deadly liquid threats; the list of people killed in Chinatown all having beared a grudge against each one, including against Gordon himself, when Batman learned about Simon Stewell getting arrested by his longtime friend for allegedly creating arson, which Stewell pleaded innocent of.

"Good heavens!", replied Jim. "So let me see if I got all this, Batman: someone had forced both Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez to steal chemicals from WayneTech in order to kill a group of nearly one hundred people & turn them into liquid monsters—monsters that first appeared 50 years ago in Japan—so that they can hunt down the likes of Schiavelli & dissolve them like they did to poor Ricky?"

"That's about the sum of it, Jim", Batman said.

"And that liquid monstrosity that killed Ricky & came after me—_that _was Simon Stewell?"

"What was left of him."

Gordon hung his head in self-pity. "I suppose I should've listened to his plea of innocence back then, Batman. If only I had, because a big part of me _did _believe he was telling the truth that he wasn't responsible for causing that fire at that Diamond Shop. I…"

The Dark Knight placed a gloved hand upon the policeman's shoulder. "You were merely doing your job, Jim", he says. "You're a cop: you must never apologize, let alone blame yourself, for it."

James lifted his head & looked Batman in the eye, his voice firm, like he was addressing one of his officers at the station. "That's pretty funny, coming from _you_, Batman!", he snapped. "You go & blame yourself for _everything _that's gone wrong in this city, including our personal lives: the earthquake, the crippling of my daughter Barbara, the death of my wife Sarah, your young protégé, whatshername, oh yes—Stephanie Brown, the Spoiler, if I remember correctly! Damn it all, you've _always _felt that you're responsible for everything & everyone in Gotham, well, I'm here to remind you that you're _not_!" Gordon pauses in his mini tirade at his longtime friend, realizing that now wasn't the time for petty squabbling when there was living horror striking Gotham at this very moment, even if Jim (& no doubt Batman) knew he was right. His voice softens & resumes having his chat with the Caped Crusader. "I'm sorry, Batman. I didn't mean to blow up at you like that. I just wanted to tell you that nobody—including you—is perfect, & that anyone can go & make a mistake, & when you do, it's nowhere near the end of the world. You can understand that, right?"

Batman looked at Gordon for a moment before answering. "Yes I do. Thank you, Jim."

Jim's eyebrows go up. "For what?"

A small smile came at the corner of Batman's mouth. "For reminding me that I'm still only human."

Now it was Gordon's turn to smile, only he does it more so. "Anytime. Should I ever see you sprout actual bat wings & grow long fangs, however, _that's _when I'll start to worry."

"That's Kirk Langstrom's department. Not mine."

"Thank God for _that_, at least."

Before anything else can be said between them, Nightwing's voice came on through the Dark Knight's mini-com.

"Batman, it's Nightwing. Come in if you're still there!"

"I'm here, Nightwing", Batman responds. "Gordon is safe. Do you have a positive fix on the liquid human's whereabouts yet?"

"And how! Not only have we _found _them, we also know where they're heading to at this very momet!"

"Where's that?"

"_That _you should see for yourself on the car's onboard computer! Batgirl & the rest are heading there now! Nightwing out."

The connection was cut before Batman could speak further. Taking his protégé's advice, he races over to the Batmobile soundlessly, with Gordon following suit; whatever Nightwing said to Batman, Jim wasn't about to be left in the dark. Catching up to his friend at his vehicle, Gordon saw Batman already behind the steering wheel & pressing a few buttons beneath his onboard computer. As Jim climbs into the passenger seat, the monitor displays a detailed map of Gotham City, showing the entire metropolitan area from within the surrounding Gotham River & Harbor. Immediately the two crimefighters spot what Nightwing was referring to—small splotches of green light, traveling at a leisurely pace but faster than usual.

"Is that them?", asked Gordon, pointing at the screen.

"In their radiant glory, Jim", Batman said. "Satellite survey shows them converging from areas such as Burnley, the Upper East Side, Coventry, & alongside the Sprang River."

"They're on the march, all right. It's like they're converging on a particular spot, like what America did to the Japanese on Iwo Jima during World War II."

"It does seem that way, Jim. It almost looks like they're heading straight for…"

Both Batman & James Gordon's eyes go agape when the realization of the liquid human's destination hits them—a target so obvious,they should've seen it from a mile away. In their current course, there's only one place in all of Gotham they would _want _to head to.

"Oh _hell_!", Batman & Gordon say in unison.

Batman floored the gas petal, & the Batmobile was off & racing before Gordon could have a chance of fastening his seat belt, the abrupt momentum of the vehicle's speed slamming him into the passenger seat.

Nightwing was right: this he _had _to see for himself.

Now he just has to _beat _them there.

**CHAPTER VII**

_Arkham Asylum:_

Established in 1921, the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum had always been a most frightening & bone-chilling place, & it wasn't just because it had housed some of the world's most dangerous & deranged lunatics & psychopaths. It was a place that was punctuated indefinitely by tragedy, & to a more extreme extent, by blood. Case in point: the facility was founded by Dr. Amadeus Arkham, whose nephew Jeremiah currently runs. The facility's very first patient ever inducted into the building's walls was Martin 'Mad Dog' Hawkins, a mentally disturbed killer designed for treatment. One fateful day, Hawkins escaped the institution & brutally killed Amadeus' wife & daughter. Enraged, the building's founder administered Hawkins' treatment himself, giving the madman Electro-Shock therapy, with the electrodes set at lethal & ultimately fatal levels. When the treatment had killed Hawkins, Amadeus then had his role in Arkham converted from doctor to patient & was committed to his own asylum, where he died. Now, Jeremiah Arkham works fervidly & at his most rigorously to atone for his Amadeus' sins of the past, vowing never to repeat the mistakes his uncle made & end up as he did, becoming a patient rather than a doctor, a memory which continues to both haunt Jeremiah & have mixed feelings over. _Was _it wrong of his uncle to shock Hawkins to death for brutally killing his wife & daughter? Doesn't a man have every right to extract vengeance for his own flesh & blood's deaths on their murderer?

Would Jeremiah be forced to go & do the same if any madman—Arkham inmate or not—had done so to someone _he _truly cared for & loved?

Difficult questions for which any answers are just as difficult to find.

Instead of pondering on the past & what he might do should such a predicament arise, Dr. Jeremiah Arkham sits at his desk in his office, going through a pamphlet of important papers he needs to organize & file away. A tall bookcase stood against one wall, filled to the rim with a full encyclopedia set & books of psychology & the like. His suite window gives Jeremiah a grand view of the courtyard, should he ever find the time to enjoy the scenery. Next to his reading lamp sat an intercom, which buzzed to life & a male voice filled the speaker.

"Hey Doc, you there?"

Jeremiah pressed a button. "I'm here, Chief. Is there a problem?"

"You can say _that _again, Doc", said the Chief. "Several of my guards & your orderlies are gone from their posts, & I mean literally _gone_!"

"What? How do you mean by that, Chief?"

"It's like this: I radioed some of my men to make sure everything was in order, but not one of them ever answered back. When I arrived at their positions, all I saw were their uniforms & weapons laying around. I saw the same thing with your orderlies over at the infirmary. Something weird is going on here, Doc. This is why I called you."

"You did the right thing, Chief. Where are you now?"

"At the West Wing, heading to the Security Monitor Room."

"I'll meet you there. Notify the guards posted of our arrival, & keep this place in lockdown in secret. If any of the inmates hears about this, it could be pandemonium."

"Understood, Doc. Stan & Ollie are on duty there tonight, so I'll relay the news to them."

"Good."

Rising from his seat, Jeremiah heads for the door & exits.

In the Monitor Room, Stan & Ollie sit comfortably in swivel seats. Ollie is a burly man with a rotund figure, an Adolf Hitler-like mustache, & a haircut reminiscent of a man from the 1930s. Stan (or Stanley, to some) was more of a spaghetti stick of a man, having a slender figure that looked as if he could easily slide through prison bars with ease. His hairstyle was more modern, with the front combed to the side, giving the impression of a high-profile film actor. Ollie receives the message given to him by the Chief over his walkie-talkie, saying he understood his orders. When he places his device on the control panel of the monitors & turns to see Stan reading a newspaper instead of watching the monitors, he wastes no time in showing his annoyance.

"Dammit, Stanley, put that paper down & get busy!", Ollie fumed. "We are supposed to be on watch tonight, emphasis on the 'we' part, meaning you & myself!"

"Easy, Ollie. I'll be finished with it in just another minute", Stanley said calmly, as if it were no big deal to him.

"That won't be the _only _thing that'll be finished around here. Do you know who I was just speaking to on my walkie-talkie?"

Stanley lowers the paper a little & looks at Ollie, shaking his head.

"The Chief. _Our _chief, the one who gave us our cushy jobs here at Arkham, & who can just as easily _take _them away from us if we're found playing hooky or slacking off on the assignment we've been given!"

"Take our jobs away?", asked Stanley. "Why would he go & do that? Is he an Indian Giver?"

Frustrated, Ollie shook his own head & mentally counted to five to relax before speaking again. "Hardly. He's our _boss_, & he wants us to stay vigilant when we're on duty so that he _won't _fire us. He's on his way here now, along with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham himself, because the Chief has told me that several staff members have been reported missing from this facility."

"Missing?", Stanley asked as Ollie firmly nodded. "Where did they go?"

"How should _I _know where they went? All I know is _they'll _be the ones who'll get the can while I still have something that can put food on my table each week!"

"Fired or the can? Can't the Chief make up his mind what he wants to give us?"

"They're the _same thing_, you twit! It's what happened to a good number of personell here for not performing their duty to the letter, & allowing numerous escapes for the inmates! I'm _not _going to be one of those slackers, so quit fooling around with that paper & get to work!"

Defeated, Stanley folds the paper & sets it down on his chair as he rises from it.

"_Now _where are you going?", Ollie asks, frustrated still.

"The bathroom", Stanley said calmly. "If the Chief & Dr. Arkham really are on their way, I should at least take care of my bladder first."

Now it was Ollie who was defeated. Clearly, his partner & obnoxious friend wasn't about to let the matter drop, so he sighs heavily & gives in, but not without a warning. "All right, go take care of it but be _quick_ about it! I'm _not _doing double-duty for you again like last week! Got it?"

Stanley smiled & nodded. "Thanks, Ollie."

"Yeah yeah. _Just _hurry back, will ya?"

Stanley was off for the men's room before Ollie finished his sentence, a small room located right outside the Security Monitor Room. Ollie shakes his head, already regretting his decision to let Stan go, even for the briefest of times. He thought of dragging back to his seat, but he wasn't about to leave his own post; Jeremiah Arkham, & even his Chief, would hand him his head if they find both of them gone from their posts, a risk Ollie dares not to take.

After two minutes of watching the monitors solo, Ollie hears the sound of the toilet flush & unleashes a sigh of relief.

"Finally", he mutters.

The next sound Ollie heard was of Stanley himself—screaming.

Ollie turned in his seat as Stanley's scream was abruptly cut short. Fearing for his friend's life, Ollie gets to his feet, his pistol in hand.

"Stanley? Are you okay?"

Getting no immediate answer had Ollie worried. He rushed over to the men's room & kicks in the door, gun at the ready. Taking a quick survey, all he finds in the room is the sink & the toilet his partner had clearly occupied, evidented by the pile of Stanley's uniform, firearm, & baton. Ollie picks up the shirt & examines it for a moment, then throws it down in disgust, obvious to him what he planned all along.

"I _knew _it!", Ollie fumed, exiting the bathroom & heading back to his post. _That twit!_, he said to himself, all traces of concern & compassion expunged. _He's left his post for me to do his job for him the rest of the evening! Not _this _time, Stanley! I'm reporting this directly to the Chief & Dr. Arkham before you land me into _another _fine mess!_

Returning to his post,Ollie picks up his walkie-talkie to make his report to the Chief, mad at himself for not having it on his belt. A second after he picks it up, he spots a drop of a glowing green ooze which has dropped down from above onto the console. When he looks up to investigate further, Ollie's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets as a whole mess of that same green ooze plummets onto him, covering his face entirely with no chance of screaming as Stanley had done before _he _disappeared, no doubt meeting the same fate Ollie now is. In his death throes, Ollie collapses on the console as the viscous fluid starts eating away at his flesh & bones, but not before his hand slams into a button &, mixing with the liquid, short-circuits the console, causing it to spark & chain react by turning all screens to viewings of black & white snow, & alarms to blare all over the complex.

The alarms continued to ring & echo loudly enough to wake the dead, but that wasn't the worst of it: when the console shorted out & rang the alarms, it took the locking mechanisms on all the cell doors with it. Everywhere, doors began springing & sliding open, granting all the inmates an unexpected but highly welcome release. Criminals of all shapes, sizes, colors, & so forth spill out into the hallways, overpowering what few guards were left in the whole complex, beating them into unconsciousness, & taking away their weapons—tazers, firearms, etc.. Raising their fists in triumph, the inmates charge down the halls & whoop cheerfully almost as loud as the sirens themselves.

Among those in the living sea of convicted personell are four inmates, three of which wear most unusual attire, especially for a place like Arkham Asylum. One stood only four feet, eight inches tall, with blue eues, auburn hair, & wore a green coat, checkered pants, black shoes, purple & red tie, white collar, & topped with a green hat. Another stood six feet tall, wearing something that basically belongs in a cornfield to frighten certain birds away. The third figure was the second dressed entirely in green, with purple shoes, gloves, mask, black tie & green hat, each of the latter with a question mark emblazoned onto them, standing six feet & one inch tall. Of the four, the last was more dressed for a night on the town, wearing a black tux, shoes, & white undershirt. He stood five feet & seven inches tall, had a near-bald head & wore a pair of specs over his blue eyes.

Their names are registered as Jervis Tetch, Professor Jonathan Crane, Edward Nigma, & Arnold Wesker.

But to the world at large (particularly in Gotham City), they are perspectively known as the rogues the Mad Hatter, the Scarecrow, the Riddler, & the Ventriloquist—four inmates who became constant escapees & arrivals in Arkham, along with many others.

"Curiouser & curiouser", said the Mad Hatter as he turns to the Riddler. "Did anyone arrange for this 'early parole'? Perhaps your two lovely associates Echo & Query had something to do with this, Nigma? If so, they did a most phenomenal job."

"Sorry to disappoint you, my well-attired friend-from-Wonderland", Nigma says. "While I'd like to take the credit for this unexpected turn of events, I'm afraid I had nothing to do with our run for freedom. Still, never look a gift horse in the mouth, as they say."

"Or to coin another phrase, 'When opportunity knocks, don't knock the opportunity'", the Scarecrow chimed in.

"Well put, my slim & scary friend. Now, what say we practice what we've just preached & get while the getting's good, yes?"

Mad Hatter & Scarecrow nod as the former says, "Would you be so kind as to lead the way for us, Nigma?"

That's when the Ventriloquist speaks up. "You three go on ahead. I've someone to catch up with first."

"You mean _him_, Wesker?", said Jervis, digging into his coat. When he pulls his hands out, he holds a wooden dummy dressed in attire exactly like Wesker's, but in dark blue with white stripes & a fedora to match. One of its white-gloved hands holds a mini Thompson submachine gun that is actually capable of firing real bullets. It was no ordinary wodden puppet: it had been carved out of wood from Blackgate's Gallow Tree, which is believed to be cursed, because when Wesker had first come in contact with this puppet, he was irresistibly drawn to it, & murdered the one who had showed it to him. That, combined with all those repressed feelings Wesker kept throughout his early life, created a diabolical duo, with the puppet given a name that reflected the mark upon its wodden cheek.

Arnold Wesker was only too happy to see him.

"Mr. Scarface!", he says gleefully, taking him from the Mad Hatter's grip & placing his right hand into the slot into his back. "We're together again! Oh, how I've missed you!"

"So whaddaya want _me _to do, dummy? _Kiss _ya?", said Scarface, a voice given all his own from one of Wesker's multiple personalities. "Quit your squawkin' & let's get a move-on outta here already! This place'll ge swarmin' with the glacks & whites pretty soon! _Move it_!"

"Uh, yes sir, Mr. Scarface", Wesker said, already on the move with Mad Hatter, Scarecrow, & Riddler right alongside him.

Mr. Zsasz (a bare-chested man with numerous dried cuts all over his chest & arms) has just killed a guard using his own two hands by snapping his neck with a sickening sound. Having no knife currently in his possession, he carves a mark on his arm using his own fingernail, drawing a line of blood, marking off another kill—a trait he does for each & every life he takes. Stanfing at a height of five feet & eight inches with a head of short blonde hair & blue eyes, Victor Zsasz has always been one of Arkham Asylum's most dangerous inmates to ever embrace its walls.

And he wasn't alone: joining him are two others who are literally green-skinned. The first is a woman who stood only two inches shorter than Zsasz, with long, chestnut-colored hair. She wore a full-bodied bikini that had a slight darker shade of green than her skin was. Actual leaves & a few twigs seem to be growing out of her skin, making her look like something from a classic sci-fi/horror movie. Her companion was no different, except one might say he was even _more _so. This individual who dwarfs either inmate, standing a frightening seven feet & five inches. About the only thing human on him was the pair of blue pants & a tattered white shirt that looks as if it's been through a paper shredder. The rest of him was pure reptilian—skin, feet, hands, tail in the rear & a head that looks dinosaurian, or in his case, _crocodilian_.

There was a good reason for it; he was born Waylon Jones, but due to a disease that mutated his skin, he had been given the name Killer Croc.

The floral female with him & Zsasz is one Pamela Lillian Isley, a.k.a. Poison Ivy, a victim of an experiment by deranged scientist Jason Woodrue, who wished to combine plant & human DNA, thus turning Pamela into his desire, with chlorophyll running through her veins.

"Scoring up another 'Victor'-y, are we, Zsasz?", Poison Ivy says with a chuckle.

"It's been far too long since my last kill, Pamela", said Zsasz with a sadistic smile. "I need to check to make sure I'm primed & ready to chalk up even more when I head out into the wide open space."

"Then what are we standing around jawing?", said Killer Croc. "_I _need to get out there as well! I've not tasted any fresh meat since my _last _venture outside, & I grow _hungry_!"

Without another word, Killer Croc raced across the hall & knocked the entrance door down with one swift blow, the sound of the impact & door crashing to the floor echoing all over. A few feet behind him, Mr. Zsasz & Poison Ivy raced after him, joining the hundreds of other inmates in their mad dash for freedom.

In another part of the asylum, in the midst of escaping prisoners, two guards—one armed with a shotgun, the other with a Baretta—have taken refuge in a secluded area known by few: a dark hallway that leads over to the basement of the complex. Both men were terrified beyond belief, never having seen a riot or escape attempt since the man called Bane blasted a hole in the pre-earthquake Arkham Asylum that enabled the convicts freedom (for a time). Even armed with their guns, neither was willing to take a chance at opening fire on the escapees, as they were vastly outnumbered by more than ten to one; they may get a couple down, but they'll still be overwhelmed in an even shorter time than it would take to bring those aforementioned couple down.

All they can do is stay out of sight & wait until the coast was clear.

Or they can try & escape themselves without being seen by anyone in prison garb or wearing a fancy suit, which some have a habit of doing.

One of the guards motioned for his partner to follow him down the hallway that will lead them both to absolute safety incognito. His partner nods & start to head downward, but just as they turn around, a mist of lavender gets sprayed in their faces & causes them to gag & cough for a few moments before collapsing to the concrete floor. When they hit, their faces were turned an eerie bleach-white & their eyes were agape, staring off into space. But the most creepy aspect of all was the wide toothy grin from both their mouths like two deranged clowns from a circus that was spawned from Hell.

Stepping out from the hallway the two guards took refuge in were two individuals, each of whom have relieved the guards of their weapons. The first one with the shotgun stood six feet in height, & was a man literally divided. His right half was as normal as any gentleman one would see on the street, with suave brown hair & a light gray suit. His left half was just the opposite, with his suit in black with white stripes. The hair on this side was gray like his 'good' suit, but both his left hand & left side of his face were scarred & disfigured by a splash of acid thrown at him by crime boss Vincent Maroni years ago, scarring not only his face but his mentality along with it.

Once he was Gotham City's leading District Attorney, Harvey Dent.

Now, he's the schizoid criminal mastermind known as Two-Face.

"Don't worry, boys. We'll put these peashooters to some _really _good use!", Two-Face gloats, priming his shotgun & chuckling as his companion proudly steps out into the limelight, holding the Baretta in his right white-gloved hand. He stood five inches taller than Two-Face, & is dressed in a purple suit almost entirely from head to toe. In addition to his white gloves, he sports black shoes with curved points, an orange & geen undershirt, a boutonniere which squirted the mist that gave the guards their lethal grins, orange cufflinks, green eyes & hair, & a face (along with the rest of his flesh) that was bleached white after a bath in chemicals from Gotham City's Ace Chemical Plant. His red lips sprout a smile he isn't shy about flashing, & has become his trademark.

While his origin & true name remain a mystery, he has been called many things in his long criminal career.

The Ace of Knaves.

The Harlequin of Hate.

The Clown Prince of Crime.

But mostly (& proudly!), he is called the Joker.

"Ahhh! And who says Christmas only comes once a year?", he gleefully says, letting out a maniacal laugh with his arms spread out & above like he was embracing the Man Upstairs, clearly enjoying the chaos & mayhem currently embroiled within Arkham.

"You're close enough, clown", Two-Face says. "The jolly season's just one month away. Up this Thursday is Thanksgiving!"

The Joker turns to his companion with a seemingly innocent look on his face.

"Okay, so I happen to be off by a month, so sue me!", he says, laughing again. "But let's not be hasty, Harv…why don't we go ahead & make _every _day Christmas for us?"

Two-Face grins. "I'm certainly up for _that_, clown! Where do you think we should begin?"

"Oh, _sooo_ many choices, _sooo_ little time! But the most _likely _place to start at would be…"

The Joker's sentence gets interrupted by a female shouting out to him.

"_Puddin'_!"

"Huh?"

The Joker looks to where the female individual called out to him & sees her soaring over the rest of the crowd of escapees by a well-executed somersault. Standing, she measured a height of five feet & seven inches, & was dressed in a red & black jester's outfit that covers her entirely, leaving only her face exposed, & even that has blue eyes hidden behind a black mask over a face in white clown makeup, with red lips that matched the Joker's own.

Ironically, this woman was once a doctor here at Arkham Asylum named Harleen Quinzel before the Clown Prince of Crime (whom she interviewed once) manipulated & twisted her mind.

Now she serves her former patient in a life of crime as Harley Quinn.

Arms extended, Harley lands in the Joker's own arms & they embrace in a lover's hold.

"Harley-girl!", Joker says.

"Hiya, Mistah J!", she says gleefully. "Didja miss me?"

The Joker cackles. "Like desert flowers miss the rain & an organ-donor misses his right kidney, pumpkin-pie!"

"Oh Mistah J, you say the most _sweetest _things!"

"You better believe it, Harley-girl! Now come: we've been granted an early parole, & ol' Harv here & I have decided to do some nice holiday activities! Care to join?"

"_How _can I refuse such a generous offer, Puddin?", Harley swoons.

"_That's _my girl! Let's skedaddle, my sweet: we plan on blowing stuff up, killing some folks, robbing a couple grandmothers, & _other_ picture-postcards!"

"_Whoopie_! I can't _wait_, Puddin'!"

"Then off we go!"

The Joker & Harley Quinn were already off & running—hand-in-hand—in the middle of their discussion with Two-Face & the rest of the crowd, the former laughing maniacally as they all head down to the main entrance for their ticket to freedom.

With the Mad Hatter, the Riddler, the Scarecrow, & the Ventriloquist & Scarface taking the lead, the Arkham inmates reach the main entrance as a few began pushing on the double doors which will allow them to head for outside & go their merry way. These inmates pull, push, & try prying it open with straight pieces of scrap metal they found laying around in the building. It was easier said than done, for the doors were solid steel, no doubt placed there should a major breakout like this ever occurs. It's doubtful that even Killer Croc can get them open using all his brute force, or be shot down by the guns some of the inmates have picked up from the fallen guards.

But it doesn't mean they intend on giving up, especially when they're this close to seeing the wild blue yonder again. While some rely on force to accomplish things, others consider using their brains to solve a problem.

Edward Nigma is one of those people.

"Why not simply do it the easy way, gentlemen?", he says, pointing to the Security Monitor Room, now devoid of any life since guards Stanley & Ollie were dissolved by viscous green fluid not too long ago. Ashamed, the inmates at the door stepped away, makeshift weapons still in hand.

"_I'll _take care if it, Mr. Riddler!", shouted a muscled inmate who went by the name of Stone. Using a powerful elbow, Stone smashed one of the windows leading inside the Security Room as glass shattered & he steps inside to the controls.

"Good man!", said Mad Hatter. "Be a chap & find the switch that'll open these hideously barbaric doors which hinder our progress, won't you?"

Inside the room, Stone half-heard Jervis Tetch as he was busy searching for the thing that will get them all out of Arkham. Seeing numerous buttons, levers & switches, Stone finally locates one that looks most promising, & one that was just as obvious to even the inmate with the lowest I.Q..

A green button marked 'Main Door Release'.

"Bingo!", Stone said proudly, pressing the button that will make them all free as birds.

But nothing happened.

Stone tries again, with no change in the outcome—the doors stay as tightly shut as the vaults in Fort Knox.

"Hey, what's the holdup, muscle-grain?", Scarface fumed. "Get those doors open so's that we can all _glow _this joint!"

"What gives?", Harley Quinn wondered not too proudly.

"What's all the hubbub…bub?", the Joker says, no more pleased than Harley is. "Why aren't those doors screaming 'Open for freedom'?"

"I-I don't know!", Stone said on the verge of a panic. "I-I'm guessing that when the doors to our cells were released, they didn't include _this _one!"

"You _think_?", Scarecrow snapped. "It should be obvious—even to an ignoramous—that that particular door release operates on a separate power grid than that of our cells, in case of an escape attempt! If you're unable to get these doors open by simply pressing that button, then that means somebody must've sabotaged it somehow, keeping us locked in here!"

"You always _were _an intelligent individual, Professor Crane!"

The sudden female voice echoed throughout the large room, grabbing everyone's attention.

"Who's there?", Poison Ivy demanded.

"You'd better come out _now_, if you know what's good for you!", Two-Face barked.

"I suggest you take his advice, whoever you are!", Scarface said matter of factly. "If not, I can guarantee you a world of misery, pain, & fear!"

"Well, what's it gonna be?", Killer Croc growled.

"Very well, then", said the female. "All of you in this sanctuary are gonna die anyway, so I guess it doesn't make any difference now."

From out of the lavatory of the Security Monitor Room, most of the inmates see a woman in what appears to be her mid-30s, standing about five-&-a-half feet tall. She wore a white lab coat & black pants, complete with matching shoes. Her green eyes were hidden behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, & her fiery orange hair was done up in a bun at the rear of her head. To think this lone female to be the cause of all their troubles was laughable, & the inmates started to snicker & chuckle.

Undaunted by their laughter, the woman continued to approach the inmates through the Security Room, her facial features in a serious stony look. When she approached Stone, he stepped in front of her with his arms across his manly chest, but the Riddler puts him at ease.

"It's quite all right, friend. Let her through", he says. "_This _could be enlightening."

Taking a quick look at Nigma & then the woman, Stone smirks & does as Edward suggests, allowing her to pass. She goes through the broken window Stone had caused with ease, as Stone follows suit but keeps her distance. He believes the Riddler has a point: whoever this woman is & whatever she has up her sleeve might give the inmates some satisfaction for a while.

An escape can come a bit later—_after _their fun with her.

"That was pretty _funny _gefore, toots!", Scarface says as the woman stops five-six feet before the wooden but deadly gangster, who turns to the Joker. "Finally, _here's _someone who's just as whacked out & crazy as our friend Joker here! Ha-ha!"

Joker seemingly puts his arm around Scarface. "But then, why else would she be here in Arkham along with the _rest _of us grunts?"

"Ha! _Good _one, Mistah J!", said Harley as the clown couple share a laugh for a moment before they settle down.

"Riddle me _this_, my dear", said the Riddler. "You _did _say to us that we were all going to die here in Arkham, did you not?"

"That's _exactly _what I said, Nigma, & meant it", the woman said. "Right here in this very place so many of you 'people' have called home are all going to die a slow & horrible death!"

The inmates stare at one another all over, trying to ponder on what this woman was talking about. It was highly hilarious to them: here is a lone female, seemingly unarmed as far as they can see, in a room with the most dangerous criminals Gotham City has to offer, & she suddenly has the mitigated gall to tell them—to their face, no less—that they were about to meet their demise.

It _was _quite hilarious, in fact, that they all let out a loud, boisterous guffaw, laughing so hard that it hurt their stomachs. Every one of them—from Stone to Scarface—filled the room with an echoing laugh that drowned out even their own thoughts.

"This broad's just as two-faced as _I _am!", Two-Face says to Poison Ivy.

"Ha! I can't decide whether to mulch her or feed her to Croc!", said the floronic female.

"Better _not_, Ivy!", Killer Croc says, hearing Pamela's words. "If I eat _her_, there's a rather good chance of me getting a _tommy-ache_!"

"Imagine—someone actually trying in vain to incite fear into _us _for a change!", Scarecrow jokes.

"And people call _ME _crazy!", Joker says, letting out the loudest laugh of all.

"Gee _whiz_, Puddin'! What _will _she think of next?", Harley Quinn shouts over the deafening laughter all around.

Through it all, the orange-haired woman neither moved nor said anything. She merely stood like a statue in the mass of lawbreakers & murderers, her face as stony as the rest of her. Not even a sneer or a smirk came across her dark pink lips.

After the laughter had died down three minutes later, the Riddler & the Mad Hatter boldly face the woman, standing now just three feet from her.

"Well, I suppose we all should thank you for giving us that little joke just now, my dear", the Mad Hatter praised. "They say that laughter can be the best medicine, as our friend Joker here can attest, but out of curiosity, how _do _you plan on pulling off your claims, if I may require?"

"Yes, my bold friend", the Riddler adds, "if you really plan on making that little miracle happen, to coin a childish phrase, 'You & what army'?"

Now the woman moves her mouth not into a sneer or a smirk, but a devilish grin, flashing her bright white teeth. "Funny you should mention that, Nigma", she says coolly, her smile now disappearing. "And for _your _information, Jervis, what I said to you all before was no joke. Like I told you, you foul fiends will no longer torment the good people of Gotham City. After today, you'll be nothing more than a really bad memory once _I _get through with you!"

Unlike before, the woman's behavior & attitude toward the inmates no longer amused them but _annoyed _them, & Scarface was the one who made that factor perfectly clear, pointing his mini submachine gun directly at the bothersome broad.

"All right, toots, we've had enough shenanigans for one day!", he spat. "Now, you can either unlock those doors & let us outta here, or we're gonna find out if you can laugh off death from a _gullet_!"

"Or maybe some of us can have a little _fun _with ya first before we finish ya off!", Mr. Zsasz says with a wicked grin of his own.

The woman was just as defiant as she had been before, not moving or giving an inch.

It was the last straw for the inmates.

"Have it _your_ way, sweetheart, gut don't say we didn't _warn_ ya!", Scarface said, turning to Stone, who nods & begins his approach to their first of soon many victims.

All he got was one step before he felt excrutiating pain in his ankle, causing him to scream.

The female's devilish grin returns to her face.

_Now it begins!_, she thought.

"What the…?", Scarface said, unable to say anything else.

"M-Mister Scarface…_look_!", the Ventriloquist said, pointing to where Stone is. Their eyes go wide as they & the other Arkham inmates witness a truly horrific sight, even for them. Stone's physical form shrinks & dissolves down to the floor in a puddle of a glowing green liquid that rises up & covers the rest of him, eating away his flesh & bones. Where Stone stood only a few moments ago was a humanoid blob that stood a menacing six feet tall. Only Stone's inmate suit was left of him, & the creature was now heading towards the Ventriloquist & Scarface & all the rest of Arkham's vile residents.

"Don't just _stand _there, dummy! _Do _sumthin'!", Scarface barked.

"I-I-I…", was all Arnold Wesker could muster from his trembling lips.

"Jesus Christ, I gotta do _everything _for ya!"

Scarface points his submachine gun at the approaching monstrosity & fires off a stream of rounds, to zero effect. The bullets pass through it with ease, not even beinning to slow it down. Its approach continues unabated. If Scarface had a heart, it would be pulsing like mad right now of utter trepidation, & that's precisely what Wesker's is doing.

And his feelings are shared by the rest of the inmates; the Scarecrow, a master of inducing fear into others, is now on the receiving end of things this time around; Two-Face & Mr. Zsasz are frozen with fear themselves, experiencing great terror in the pits of their stomachs for what could be the very first time in their lives since becoming the psychopaths they are, & the looks on their faces are the indisputable proof; even so-called super villains like Poison Ivy & Killer Croc, whose stamina & abilities are above normal, have fear creeping into their souls. Ivy knows that she can never get that close to it without ending up like Stone did, & Croc can see he could never devour & consume something mutable & pliable as the viscous liquid that can dissolve flesh with ease.

The situation gets worse for the petrified inmates: over a dozen begin screaming in terror & pain as fifteen men get eaten by _more _of the liquid monsters that apparently appear out of the blue—some creeping up from the floor, a few drop from the ceiling—and begin killing those who have preyed upon Gotham City's citizens. Those closest to the liquid horrors back far away to avoid getting dissolved themselves. Some with guns even try shooting the creatures, but all their shots only end up going through the things, having no more success than Scarface did. In fact, the only thing they were successful in hitting with their bullets were a couple of inmates, as these hit the floor in puddles of their own blood. Seeing the futility, those armed with guns cease firing & continue stepping away from the deadly blobs, trampling over more than a couple of others doing so.

Close to a dozen of the liquid humans rise up from the floor after killing their intended victims, each of whom now advance toward some of the major criminals in Arkham like Zsasz & the Mad Hatter. Each of them deduce that it was this madwoman who had sabotaged the mechanism for the doors that would've permitted them to flee Arkham, turning their sanctuary into what may be their final resting place. It was too late to do anything about it now, & now it seems that woman—who's enjoying every second of seeing the inmates suffer—is having her most fondest wish being granted right before her eyes.

The bone-chilling feeling doesn't surpass either the Joker or Harley Quinn, as the clown couple wrap each other in their arms, just as incapable of dealing with the horrors that approach even closer.

"What'll we _do_, Puddin'?", Harley Quinn asks, her body quavering all over.

"You're asking _me_?", quips Joker. "Where's Steve McQueen when you really need him?"

"He's dead, Puddin."

"Oh. I forgot."

The woman laughs hysterically, watching the inmates cower in fear.

"So, for all the years you've all brought pain, suffering,& misery to the people of Gotham City", she shouts, "how does it feel to finally be on the receiving end of it? You criminal scum are all alike—you can dish it out, but you can't _take _it! _Now _you know how the people of Gotham feel when you prey upon them and/or take their lives just to amuse yourselves! _No more_! Tonight, there will be an _end _to it!"

"Not _your _way, it won't!"

From above, a shadowy figure drops marble-sized capsules at each of the liquid humans & strike them dead-on, hitting their marks as each reside within the fluidly creatures. Two second later, all of them release a burst of high flame that completely incinerates every one of the liquid humans in the room & turning them into piles of burnt, harmless, & inert ash. Once the terror was taken care of, the shadowy figure dropped from the ceiling & landed with ease on the floor like an all-star gymnast, landing between the woman & the inmates while rising up to his full 6-foot-2-inch height.

"Batman!", said the Riddler, glad for once to actually see him arrive.

The same goes for the Joker.

"Well, you're not exactly Steve McQueen, but given the circumstances, I guess you'll do", he says, spitting out a slight laugh.

Just then, a small explosion erupts from the double doors the inmates were all trying to get open to escape at the middle, opening to reveal Nightwing, Batgirl, Catwoman, Huntress (who was called in by Nightwing himself, & filled in on the details of the situation), Police Commissioner James Gordon, & a uniformed guard in blue, standing six feet, three inches tall, with a full-fledged beard, dark sunglasses, & officer's cap. The inmates remarkably remain where they are & the woman steps a few feet away from the Dark Knight, who now gets a clear look at & recognizes her in surprise.

"Dr. Ellen Tillis?", he says with raised eyebrows.

Nightwing & the others recognize her as well.

"What are _you _doing in a place like Arkham?", Huntress asked.

"Wouldn't _you _like to know!", Tillis snapped.

That's when the Ventriloquist approaches Batman.

"She's _crazy_, Batman!", Wesker says, pointing to Ellen with his free hand. "She got us all trapped in here just so she can have us _killed_!"

"For once in his misgegotten life, the dummy's _right_, Gats!", said Scarface. "This whacko groad was sending us all to that great gig asylum in the sky gy sicking those liquid geasts on us!"

"She's a _lunatic!_", the Joker says in a childish manner, pointing to Dr. Tillis.

"She's looney-tune-y!", Harley Quinn says, circling the side of her head with a finger.

The other inmates were all nodding their heads & saying things like 'yeah' & 'right', & it was when Batman (along with his companions) pieced the most vital piece of the entire puzzle.

It was Jim Gordon who says it first.

"_You _killed all those people at the Chinatown warehouse last week—_didn't _you?", he says.

"Using the chemicals from Wayne Enterprises which you forced Thomas Cornell & Joshua Sanchez to steal, before murdering them both along with their wives!", Nightwing added.

"But first you reminded those people of the misfortunes they've suffered by Gotham's criminals so that revenge was all they would live for once they had all become those liquid monsters!", said Batgirl.

"Thus re-creating the very creatures that once attacked Tokyo, Japan fifty years previously & unleashing them here on Gotham's criminals!", Catwoman said.

"Payback!", Batman surmised. "That's what this whole thing is all about, isn't it, Tillis? You wish to be the underworld's judge, jury, _and _executioner!"

"_Somebody _needs to be, Batman!", she snapped. "And if neither of you costumed freaks or men & women from the Gotham City Police Department will do a damn thing about their horrid & heinous crimes, _then I will_!"

"We're _not _going to let you continue with this, Doctor!", the blue-suited officer said.

"You want to _bet _on that, officer?", Tillis says with her wicked grin.

As if on cue, more of the liquid humans began emerging from the floor, some taking a few more inmates with them, screaming in pain & terror as they dissolve into nothing, leaving only their clothing behind.

"All of you inmates, get out of here—_now_!", the officer shouted as he, Gordon, & the heroes cleared a path for them to go through the now-open double doors.

"Hey! Did you creeps hear what he said?", Huntress shouted. "If you scumbags value your lives, _move it_!"

Huntress' comment got them on the go, & every convict in the room started clearing out in a hurried rush, wanting to be far away from the resurgence of the creatures whose main pourpose was to literally wipe them out of existence. Like Gordon & the blue suited officer (presumably the chief Dr. Arkham spoke to earlier), Nightwing & the three heroines did not hinder or halt their progress of leaving the facility of Arkham Asylum, for it was their task to make sure they all get to safety & be spared the liquid humans' terrible, unforgiving wrath. It may be true that none of them have any love for these people (most notably Gordon with the Joker, for example), as they have caused unspeakable acts of violence in the past, but even they don't deserve a fate like the one Dr. Ellen Tillis planned for them; that kind of act doesn't score any points with these people.

Even Huntress feels empathy for Arkham's criminally insane, despite her harsh & often violent methods she deploys on criminals that don't win approval with Batman. A fate of disintegration by monsters who were once human seemed too much even for her, & the way she felt when Mr. Freeze coldheartedly froze then broke most of his men at the Diamond Exchange is the way she feels now.

Huntress wonders if Batman's morale of saving all types of lives including criminals has also seeped into her own soul.

But they'll be time for that later; she had to concentrate on the task at hand by first allowing the inmates to get away safely (& round them up later), then by eliminating the deadly threat of a horror that once invaded Tokyo five decades previous.

Soon, only Batman & his Bat-Family, Gordon, the Chief, & Dr. Ellen Tillis were left in the building along with the several liquid humans that now started their approach to them. But unlike the Arkham inmates, they were well prepared to deal with them. As Batman regrouped with his allies, he pulls out a batarang which is charged with high voltage, as Nightwing & the other costumed heroes take out the same from their own belts (Huntress being equipped, thanks in no small part to Nightwing), & wait for Batman's signal to launch them.

"On my mark…!", Batman instructs his companions, raising his arm as the rest follow suit when Dr. Tillis intervenes.

"No you _don't_!", she yelled, running right in front of the line of fire, getting between Batman & company, her arms stretched out to her sides.

More of the liquid humans converge from behind.

"Dr. Tillis!", Batgirl, Catwoman, & Batman shouted, disbelieving in the insane doctor's actions, being felt by the rest.

"You crazy broad! You're in our line of fire! _Move it_!", Huntress snapped.

"What the _hell _do you think you're _doing_?", Nightwing barks.

"Are you _mad_? Get _away _from them! _Now_!", Gordon shouted.

"_No_!", shouted Tillis, staying where she is even as the liquid humans are now inches away from her. "I won't allow you to harm any more of my precious children!"

The Chief was about to step forward & grab Ellen to pull her to safety, but his attempt was too little, too late. From above, one of the humanoid blobs suddenly drops down upon her head & covers her top. Oddly enough, Ellen's flesh doesn't begin to melt away upon contact with the menacing fluid. In fact, instead of screaming her death throes like everyone else who came in touch with the things, she wears her devilish grin on her face as even more of the liquid creatures converge on her, almost as if she was _welcoming _their physical essence with her own. This eerie & chilling turn of events made everyone's eyes go wide—even Batman's—as Dr. Ellen Tillis' flesh begins to distort & metamorph like _she _was one of the monstrosities she created. With every one of the creatures which comes in touch with her, she begins also to grow in size, absorbing each of her so-called 'children', her flesh & organs vanishing from view & being replaced by the viscous green-glowing fluid, actually _becoming _one. Her clothes drop to the floor as now her entire head begins taking on a new form. Her hair literally disintegrates, & her regular eyes, nose, & mouth take on a new look—two upside-down triangles, a right-side one for a nose, & a mouth with what appeared to be sharp teeth in liquid form, turned up in an evil grin. Like the rest of her, her face was no longer considered human: it more resembled a carved-out Halloween Jack-O-Lantern, & what was once Dr. Ellen Tillis has now become a twelve-foot-tall giant of flesh-dissolving liquid.

"Good lord!", Gordon said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Dr. Tillis?", said the Chief, his mind still having trouble comprehending what he's just witnessed.

"What in God's name did you…_do _to yourself?", Batgirl wondered.

When Tillis spoke, her voice sounded like it was coming from a synthesizer.

"Surprised, are you?", she began. "When I learned of the liquid human incident in Tokyo not long ago, I managed to get ahold of Professor Maki's notes from his files while on a trip to Jyoto University, where he teached. It was from there that I discovered & unlocked the secrets of the liquid humans, but what _really_ grabbed my attention was their genetics code. Therefore, I adopted it to my own DNA!"

"You _witch_!", Catwoman said. "Are you trying to tell us you _experimented _on yourself?"

"Of course!", Tillis continued. "Not only did I make myself immune to their disintegrative capabilities, but I've also become their lord & master! Even now, I can hear each one of their individual thoughts & cries as they all yearn to seek justice for all the wrongs committed to them by the criminal scum who prey upon the innocent of this wretched city that's overrun with them! Justice is what they seek, & justice is what I shall now _grant_ them! And if _any _of you weak, bleeding-heart do-gooders dare try to thwart or deny us of what we yearn for, then you shall all _perish _with them!"

The thing that was once Dr. Ellen Tillis began to raise her monstrous arm, & the Chief had boldly stepped in front of Batman & his group, clenching his fists & getting in a defensive position.

"All of you, get out of here & shut the doors behind you…_now_! _I'll _handle this!", he firmly ordered.

"_Wait _a minute! You can't…", Batman began to say but Nightwing grabbed his arm.

"Batman, do as he says! _Please_!", he pleaded firmly.

Having no time to argue the matter (& because he trusts Dick), Batman nods & faces Jim & the others who get the message, & they all exit just outside the room as the Dark Knight closes the doors behind him.

Now the Chief was alone with the creature that used to be Dr. Tillis.

"Brave, but foolish!", said the Tillis monster. In the blink of an eye, her arm actually extends out like a lashing snake & engulfs the Chief in the viscous fluid & reels him back in, placing him in the pit of her belly.

Trapped, the man struggled to escape his literal death trap, but he could only flail his arms about as if he were drowning in a swimming pool—one where the water was alive.

While he wasn't dissolving, he still couldn't breathe, & discovered that he didn't get enough air in his lungs before being snared.

"Amazing, isn't it?", Tillis said. "Now that I have complete & utter control of the liquid humans, there's practically _nothing _I cannot do! I can choose to dissolve a person on contact, or store them within me to eat away slowly or save for later, not to mention mold my body into any form I decide! And now, you bold & stupid man, _you _shall be the first to experience a torturous & agonizing death in my new form as I slowly eat you…wait! Something's _wrong_! Your flesh! It…"

All of a sudden, the Tillis monstrosity yelled out in surprise as the Chief begins to spin himself at a high velocity, turning himself into a human tornado & twirling the creature along with him, splattering it in various places within the room like someone mixing fruits in a blender.

When the last of the deadly flesh-eating liquid had been dispersed from his persona, the Chief's beard, sunglasses, hat, & uniform were all gone, & was replaced by a man in blue tights, yellow metal belt, red boots & cape, a red 'S' insignia on a yellow diamond shape placed onto his chest, blue eyes, & a head of wavy jet black hair.

The Chief was Superman—in disguise!

"She's _down_, Batman!", he called out.

The Caped Crusader reopens the double doors with Nightwing's help to see pieces of the creature spattered all over the room & the Man of Steel standing in its place. While Batman was skeptical about his appearance here in Arkham, the rest were in awe at seeing Earth's greatest hero in their domain of Gotham City.

"Superman!", Catwoman, Batgirl, Huntress, & Gordon say in greeting.

"Good to see you all again", Superman says politely & with a smile. "I just wish the circumstances were a bit better."

The four—and Nightwing—returned his smile.

"Not to sound ungrateful, Superman, but why are you here?", Batman asked.

"Because I _asked _him to be, Batman", Nightwing said, facing him. "On our way over, I knew we were going to need some 'special' assistance, so I called the Hall of Justice to see if he was available, & here he is."

"First, I evacuated whatever guards were left alive, along with Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, then I assumed the identity of the Chief guard & took his place", Superman explains. "Knowing what we were dealing with, I had to act fast, but Jeremiah & the others are safe as we speak."

Batman eyed Superman; since their first encounter in Gotham City eight months after the Man of Steel's debut in the neighboring city of Metropolis over a decade ago, Batman & Superman had differences in methods of crimefighting, particularly when the Dark Knight was on the trail of the fatal female Margaret Pye, a.k.a. Magpie, an individual who had an over-obsession of shiny objects, becoming top curator in one of America's leading museums, wishing to possess all things she could never have, even if she saved enough money her whole life to purchase them. As Superman has been declared the 'Boy Scout' & has an easygoing attitude towards things, Batman has a more grimmer, darker approach in both appearance & methods. While they are as different as night is to day & don't always see eye-to-eye, the two have nonetheless grown to respect each other & their ways, & know they can always count on the other during the worst conditions if & when they arrive. It was Superman himself who once entrusted Batman alone with a ring that had been embedded with a piece of Kryptonite—fragments of Superman's home planet of Krypton & about the only known substance anywhere that can cause the Man of Steel excrutiating pain & even death if exposed to it for too long. Such one time was when Poison Ivy arrived in Metropolis & took control of the Kryptonian with Kryptonite lipstick. Fortunately for Batman, he always carries the ring with him whenever arriving in his city, & the two battled beneath Metropolis until a manipulative move had broken Ivy's spell over him by having Catwoman place ace reporter of the Daily Planet Lois Lane in danger, with Superman coming to her rescue (as usual!) under his own power.

Bottom line, the two heroes are glad to be each other's friend, although Batman would never openly admit it.

But that doesn't mean he's ungrateful for his assistance as he stated before, & now does so again.

"Grim as circumstances are currently, it's good you're here", Batman said, meaning it.

Superman smiles again & nods his approval as Batman turns to Nightwing.

"Good thinking on your part, Nightwing", he tells him.

"Thank you, Batman", Nightwing said. "Now that Dr. Tillis _is _down, we should incinerate all her pieces before she can reform."

"_Fat chance_!"

Tillis' inhuman voice echoes throughout the room, putting everyone back on full alert. All of a sudden, the remains of her blob-ous form started moving & running into one another, getting larger & larger each time, moving at a much faster pace than any of the individual humanoid blobs.

"Get them! Hurry!", Batman ordered, as he & his costumed companions began igniting their built-in flamethrowers from each of their gauntlets. Even Superman got in on the act, using his red eye beams to fricassee the pieces before they can become whole again. But their efforts were in vain: in amazing speed, all the pieces came together & formed the monstrous entity of Ellen Tillis, & this time, she seems to have reached a height of fourteen feet.

"Sorry, heroes!", she scoffed. "You're going to have to do better than that!"

"Then that's _just _what we'll do, Tillis!", Superman barked, unleashing his eye beams once more, hitting the monster square in the chest & going right through. But instead of going up in flames, Ellen only laughs at the Man of Steel's attack, & the heat from his eyes is the most intense out of the incinerating weaponry of the Bat-Family's.

"What?", Superman says, surprised.

"Why didn't she go up in flames like the others?", Batgirl asked, just as shocked.

"Foolish little girl!", laughed Tillis. "With our combined mass, a simple little flame or beam of heat does nothing more than tickle me now! To have me defeated, you'd either need to drop me into something like a vat of molten metal or use the entire city's electricity to bring me down!"

"Thanks for the _advice_, Doc!", a smirking Superman says, inhaling a deep breath of air & exhaling with all his might, creating a stream of super-cold air that would freeze Tillis in an instant.

If only it had _touched _her; seeing what the Kryptonian had in mind, the liquid creature dodged to one side, her body looking & acting like a fluidly serpent. All Superman managed to freeze was the floor Tillis occupied only a second ago. Not giving him another chance to put her on ice, Tillis speedily heads down the hallway away from the heroes & was gone in seconds, her hideous laughter echoing off the walls like a ghost in a haunted house.

"We've gotta _stop_ her!", Superman says. "Once she's out in the open, she can end up literally _anywhere _in Gotham!"

"Wait, Superman!", Batman said before his friend can take off, getting in front of him. "Let's not forget our _other _problem. I need for you & the others to go rally up all the inmates & make sure they don't leave the compound."

"Batman, you aren't _seriously _thinking about going after Tillis _alone_? That's crazy even for _you_!"

"He _won't _be, Superman!", Gordon says, stepping up to the two heroes. "_I'm _going to be accompanying him in that task!"

The Police Commissioner's reply stunned both Superman _and _Batman.

"Jim…", Batman began.

"_No_, Batman!", Gordon said, cutting him off & staring him in the eye. "I may not be that adequate in dealing with & battling _actual_ monsters as much as you & Superman are, but that's _still _not going to prevent me from doing what it is I've been sworn to do! Like I've told you before in the past, Gotham is also _my _city, & I _will_ defend it from any & all threats to the last drop of my blood! So, are we _in_, or what? Time's a-wastin'!"

It only took a second for Batman to make his choice & agree with his other good friend, but it was Superman who spoke for them both.

"You're a brave man, James Gordon", he praised, smiling for a moment. "It's settled: you two go after Tillis while the rest of us round up the escapees. If she's still in the vicinity of Arkham, make sure she doesn't go any further."

"She won't", Batman said, plain & simple.

Superman nods & turns to Nightwing & the others. "Let's move,folks! We've got some runaway cattle to rustle up!"

"We're all right behind you!", Nightwing said as he, Batgirl, Huntress, & Catwoman follow the Man of Steel out of the room, leaving Batman & James Gordon behind.

"Ready, Jim?", Batman asked.

"You even need to ask?", Gordon replied, pulling out his gun & getting a smile from the Caped Crusader. A nod later, & they both raced off down the hall where Ellen Tillis has escaped to, partners in crimefighting once again.

It's a feeling they both savor.

**CHAPTER VIII**

Having a miniature Geiger-counter accompanying the many weapons & gadgets from his utility belt, Batman & Jim Gordon race down the corridor Ellen Tillis used to make good her getaway, passing the many open & unoccupied cells of Arkham Asylum which once contained an inmate. It was a sight that chilled both crimefighters to the bone, even knowing that, with the help of Superman & most members of the Bat-Family, they would be rounded up in no time. What was more frightening still was the fact that it wasn't the first time the house for the criminally insane had been emptied & devoid of its 'residents'. There was, of course, the time when Bane—the infamous hulking villain who succeeded in breaking the Bat—released the inmates just to wear the Dark Knight down before doing the dastardly deed. Another time was when the great earthquake came by & decimated the entire city, including Arkham Asylum itself. The only difference in that & Bane's assault on the facility was that Dr. Jeremiah Arkham himself _allowed _the inmates to leave. Jeremiah didn't wish for them to die in any sense, be it starvation or otherwise, so he permitted them freedom if they gave their word to return once the emergency was dealt with & over.

But like all backstabbers, they _lied_ to the good doctor, & had to be all _brought _back by force.

With that incident in mind, Batman had to wonder: was that the right thing to do then, giving the Arkham inmates a chance to flee the vicinity during the earthquake so they can survive? If _he _was Jeremiah, would he have made that same choice in order to save their lives like that, fully aware of the mayhem & death they're all capable of causing to the decent people of Gotham City? Or would he simply just leave them here to be swallowed by the Earth itself & perish, sparing the city any more misery & suffering from these human monsters?

Given the choice he's made to arrive at Arkham & fend off the liquid humans from dissolving & killing them, the answer is pretty obvious.

Batman's Geiger-counter started beeping faster & faster as they near the end of the corridor he & Gordon were following the readings to, pursuing it to the sub-basement of Arkham. It was here that the beeping noise was at its fastest, becoming an almost steady sound, similar to when a television conducts an emergency broadcast test.

The good news is they're hot on Tillis' trail.

The bad news is they've reached a dead end.

"_Now _what?", Gordon said. "Tillis couldn't have just disappeared into thin air, even in her current form!"

Batman looked around until he found what he was searching for—and he finds it.

"Unless she found something which only _she _can gain access to", he says.

"How do you…", Gordon started to say as Batman walks up to what he spotted, & suddenly Jim catches his friend's drift. At the right corner of the corridor was a rectangular sewer drain on the floor that measured a foot long & three to four inches wide vertically. Checking his Geiger-counter to be certain, the readings do indicate that Tillis _has _gone this way.

"Are the readings accurate?", Gordon asked.

"Like two plus two equals four", Batman replied, dispensing a pair of black, marble-sized capsules in his hand. "Better get some distance, Jim."

Seeing what Batman has planned, Gordon does as his masked friend suggested & gets to a distance of close to fifteen feet, with Batman getting in front of him & behaving like a human shield. With precise accuracy, the Dark Knight throws his capsules at the sewer drain & they hit their mark on contact. A small but powerful explosion slightly rocks the area as smoke & debris spray at the two heroes, with Batman engulfing Jim in his cape to give him cover. Fortunately, the blast lasted only a few seconds, & in no time, the smoke dissipates away, giving the men a clear view of a hole in the ground (& part of the accompanying wall) large enough for a man to enter.

The duo approach the makeshift hole & kneel down to look below. Immediately they stare at what was to be expected—the Gotham City sewers, with corridors ten feet high & twelve-thirteen feet wide. Water ran straight down in a slow but steady stream, having concrete ledges on either side that were two feet wide for safe passage without having to enter the water itself.

Immediately the stench of the sewers hits both men, but only Gordon pays it any mind, not being able to ignore the pungent odor as Batman seems to be doing.

"Oh, _this _is gonna be fun!", Gordon says, making a face as he faces his friend. "Shall we?"

Batman smiles at Gordon. "After you."

Once both men drop down into the sewers, Batman & Jim each got on the concrete ledges & started running east after a quick check from the Caped Crusader's Geiger-counter. Down here, the stench of the sewers was even stronger than before, now that they were actually traveling through it. Gordon felt sick to his stomach from smelling the odor of piss & other unpleasant smells which fill his nostrils. Even if it was necessary to track down Ellen Tillis & put an end to her war against the criminally insane, it doesn't mean he had to _like _it.

But like most other things, you need to take the bad with the good, if you ever wish to accomplish anything.

"Ugh! I'll _never _know how Killer Croc puts up with the stench down here!", he says.

"Stay strong, Jim", Batman said back, remaining composed as if he don't smell a damn thing. "We'll find Tillis & stop her before you know it."

"_Soon_, I hope! But I _do _understand as to why she would come down here! Killer Croc does it all the time to elude both my department _and _you! Therefore, why _couldn't _Dr. Tillis go & do the same?"

"It's also the perfect way to get to anywhere in the city & arrive unnoticed topside!", added Batman. "It's basically the reverse of how _I _get around in Gotham anonymously!"

The near-steady noise of Batman's Geiger-counter remains even after five minutes of running down the sewer's corridor.

"I don't get it", Gordon wondered. "We've been on Tillis' tail for five minutes now, & she's been in close proximity for all this time. If that's the case, then how come we haven't seen or run into her yet?"

Batman pondered on Jim's comment. He may have a point on what he said: for the five minutes he & Gordon have been following her through the sewer tunnel, the Geiger-counter's shown of her being in close proximity. If she had been farther away, the readings would've indicated it, & the noise would become a much slower beeping than it is now.

_Why would that be? Unless…_, Batman thought, stopping in his tracks as Jim does the same. The cop-vigilante duo stop in a huge, dome-like area of the sewer, with large conduit pipes which carry both fresh water & electricity to supply the city with placed vertically on the stone walls. A stone walkway just like the one they've been traveling down resides against the walls, leaving a gap between the group of five other tunnels open around the walls. This made it more difficult to determine as to where Ellen Tillis may have gone.

But Batman thought otherwise.

"I don't think she _wants _us to lose her, Jim!", he said, the realization hitting him in the face.

"A detective to the last!"

Dr. Tillis' inhuman voice echoed throughout the dome-shaped space, making it hard to get an immediate lock on where she may be hiding. It was then that Batman heard a different sound from within, hovering just above the tunnel entrance they emerged from.

In fact, the same sound was coming from _all _the dome's entrances, & Batman sees flashing lights above each.

They were all rigged with charges ready to blow!

"Jim! Watch out…!", Batman shouted, trying to warn his friend of the immediate danger, but all at once, the charges went off with a powerful blast that rained down heavy rocks & debris on each of the tunnel's entrances, sealing them off & keeping them trapped within.

Batman threw himself out of harm's way just in time, & he prayed that James Gordon had done the same when he called out to him.

"Jim?", he calls his name again.

A moan from across the decimated tunnel entrance caught Batman's attention, & he sees his longtime friend lying on the concrete path, struggling to get up.

"Batman?", Jim calls out, turning to where he thought he heard his voice from, his hearing acting like they were stuffed with cotton.

"Are you all right, Jim?", Batman says to him, rising to his feet.

"I-I'll live!", Gordon says, needing to shout in order for Batman to hear him, believing that his hearing is just as muffled as his own. "What happened?"

"It's just as we feared, Jim! The only reason Tillis was close by was so that she…"

"So that I can deal with the two of you first!", said Tillis, emerging from above through an open storm drain as a green-glowing, fluid snake. She lands in the water with a splash, reforming into the creature she has become when she absorbed the other liquid humans at Arkham's main entrance.

"You're both _fools _to come after me, but it _was_ to be anticipated!", Tillis said. "That's why I had taken the privilege of setting up those charges & seal you within this confined space! The only way out of here is to get past _me_!"

"_Our_ thoughts exactly, Tillis!", Batman said defiantly, throwing a Batarang concealed from within his cape at the drain Tillis emerged from. The thing exploded with a sticky substance, turning rock-hard in seconds, sealing it shut. "Now we're _all _sealed in here, & you're insane if you believe we'll allow you to leave here to wage your lethal war on Gotham's underworld!"

"Insane? Have you looked in the mirror lately, Batman?", Tillis snapped. "Why in the world would you risk your own life to fight for & protect those who bring nothing but suffering to any & all they come in contact with?"

"Protecting people is what I've been sworn to do, Tillis! Plain & simple!"

"Even for the likes of the Arkham inmates, who gleefully kills for the sake of killing? How many more innocent people need to die by their hands before you, your Bat-Family, or even the G.C.P.D. are finally convinced that they need to be taken down—_permenantly_? How many more will it take, Batman? Six? Sixty? Six hundred? Six _thousand_?"

"And you really believe that what you plan to do will make it all better?"

"Why not? I'm only doing what none of you ever had the _stomach _for! You fight & defeat each one of these lunatics & send them to Arkham of wherever, & for _what_? So that they can escape over & over again & spit on everything on the world that's decent? In case you're _really _as blind as a bat, Gotham City is a _magnet _for these lunatics, & the attraction will never end unless someone severs that dangerous pull! Don't you think the people of this city have suffered enough by their hands, Batman? It doesn't end, despite your valiant efforts!"

"_You're _the one who's blind, Tillis!", Gordon shouts at her, his hearing getting back to what it was. She turns to him as Jim went on. "Vile as they are, it doesn't change the fact that they're still human beings with the same rights as anyone else, regardless of their nature! _That's _what the Bill of Rights—the parchment which our forefathers fought & died for to enforce—is for! As an officer of the law, it's my duty to uphold those rights to the fullest extent, no matter what!"

"And look where it _got _you, Gordon! A wife who was gunned down by the Joker, & a daughter crippled by the same madman! You could've _murdered _that psychotic clown when you had the chance during No Man's Land & be within your rights, but you _didn't_! _Why_?"

"Because cops don't _operate _that way, & certainly not _my _officers! Yes, I was angry beyond belief when the Joker crippled Barbara & killed Sarah, I'll grant you that! Truthfully, I _did _want to put a bullet in that clown's head after what he did to my wife in NML, but thankfully, Batman had prevented me from doing something I was sure to regret later!"

_And not long after that, you did the same for me, Jim_, Batman said to himself, reminded of the time he was on the verge of actually taking the Joker's life on the night he had seemingly killed his childhood friend Thomas Elliot.

"The _only_ thing you're gonna regret, Gordon, is coming after _me_!", Tillis shouts, raising her left arm above her head & morphing the hand into a double-bladed axe.

"_Run, Jim_!", Batman shouted as Tillis swung her arm at the Police Commissioner, her makeshift axe missing Gordon's head by a fraction of an inch as he dives for cover on the concrete path. While Jim may have been spared a beheading by their mutable enemy, Batman knows he won't last long against her.

He needs to turn her attention to _him_.

Pulling out a Batarang from his utility belt, Batman hurls it at Tillis' head. Upon contact, it lets loose an electrical discharge that doesn't do any real damage to the inhuman doctor aside from make her yell in pain, but it _does _grab her attention to him—which is _just _what Batman wanted.

"You want someone to quarrel with, Tillis? Try _me_!", the Dark Knight barked.

Her rage focused on him, Tillis lets out a hideous guffaw. "I honestly can't decide just how much of a fool you are—either by pursuing me down here, or thinking you & your friend can ever hope to defeat me! Don't you realize I can easily dissolve the flesh & bones of your being by mere touch? You'll both be nothing but the clothes off your back! Bearing that in mind, I suggest you make this easy for yourselves & allow me to make that image become a reality!"

"No dice, Tillis! Even though you've set a trap for me & Jim, we're here to put an end to your madness, & _that's _what we intend to do!"

"You can both _try_!"

Forming her right arm into a giant stiletto, Tillis extends it at Batman in an attempt to skewer him like a fisherman spearing his catch in a stream. The Caped Crusader dives to the left as the deadly point just misses his pointy-eared head by less than an inch. With capsules already in hand, Batman pitches them at his blobous enemy. Each one explodes in a blinding smokescreen which covers the inhuman doctor completely, obscuring her vision of Batman & Gordon. With hardly a sound, Batman rushes over to his friend, putting a finger to his lips to tell Jim not to make any kind of unnecessary sounds. Gordon nods, understanding the situation. Unfortunately for them, the smokescreen Batman deployed dissipated faster than anticipated as Tillis waves her blobous arms to clear it away. When she spots the crimefighting duo, she unleashes a hideous screech of anger, forming her hands into giant gavels & swings them at Batman & Jim. With Gordon in tow, Batman makes a leap to his right, barely avoiding getting pile-drived by Tillis' attack. So powerful was her swing that when it hit the area the two were at, it shook the complex. Batman realizes that, while fixed & rebuilt sturdier after the great earthquake, it won't be able to stand the strain forever; should this fight be prolonged down here, the entire dome could collapse upon Gordon & himself, making this place their tomb.

This needs to be ended soon before that happens.

"These sewers aren't meant for grand-scale battles like this, Batman!", Gordon says.

"I know, Jim", Batman said. "Let's finish this!"

Pulling out one of his Wall-penetrating Grapnels, Batman presses the red button on the handle & fires one of the drill-headed darts on thin but durable steel cables. The dart pierces the ceiling of the dome, & the Dark Knight takes off & swings as he literally heads for Tillis as she rears up for another assault. Retracting his line a bit, Batman places his feet together & in front of him & rams them into Tillis' face, splattering it in two as he's careful not to get any of the glowing green substance on his flesh, for even a piece of it can be fatal as he's learned from Masada & Tominaga's files.

As luck would have it, the substance which landed on his blue boots slide off right away, as Batman coated them (& other parts of his costume) with an oily liquid for just such an emergency.

Re-forming her splattered head, Tillis turns her direction to Batman once more, ignoring Jim Gordon as the Dark Knight hoped. Unleashing a blaring snarl, Tillis morphs her arms & hands into long blades & lashes out at Batman like a wild samurai warrior, slicing the air at the vigilante in a mad attempt to cut him up into little pieces. Unfortunately for Tillis, air is all she succeeds at slicing, with Batman using his amazing athletic acrobatics to dodge & avoid his pliable foe's attacks; it reminded the Caped Crusader of all the times he went up against Basil Karlo & the other Clayfaces in the past, only Ellen Tillis is more agile & adept at using her mutable form, making her more dangerous, if that was possible.

From behind the inhuman madwoman, James Gordon watches the two combatants go at it almost like prize fighters, wishing he had the agility & stamina like his cape & cowled friend does. Even if Gordon is still fit as a fiddle at his age, being re-instated as Police Commissioner, he sill wished he had the agility Batman does, being able to leap with such grace in midair & all. He envies Batman for that, but even if he were granted the ability to make himself about twenty or even _thirty _years younger, Jim could probably never possess what he does.

In this, he felt utterly helpless; a big part of his gut tells him that he should somehow escape the dome & get Superman's help, but Gordon promised the Man of Steel that he alone would assist Batman in finding & defeating Dr. Ellen Tillis.

It's a promise he intends to keep.

Finding her was the easy part, as Tillis herself had made it for them.

Defeating her was something else entirely; even though Jim knows the lquid humans' weaknesses are high intensity flames & electricity, how can one defeat a creature that can dissolve you away with but a mere touch?

Then he looks down to the floor in front of him: just before Batman swung off, he left an object at his feet. Gordon picked it up for closer inspection. It was in the shape of a bat, of course, but it had familiar attributes to which Jim is too aware of; he may not know where Batman gets his gadgets & weaponry from, but Gordon knows a shaped charge when he sees one.

But he doesn't immediately know _why _he would give it to him in the first place. Clearly it wasn't to blow a path out of any of the collapsed tunnels: that would allow Tillis to escape with ease & disappear within Gotham City limits, with little or no success in finding her again, or with Tillis _letting _them find her.

It puzzled him for a moment until it hits him: catching sight of one of the large vertical metal pipes running alongside the wall, Gordon now understands as to why Batman left his explosive charge at his feet.

Now _I get it! Good thinking, Batman!_, Jim says to himself, hurrying over stealthily to the closest pipe from his current position, being careful not to draw any attention to himself & make him Ellen's target. For these few moments Jim needs to pretend that _he's _Batman, & thankfully, he is highly successful; Dr. Tillis is unaware of Gordon's presence, even when she gets struck by five flame capsules from Batman's arsenal.

Feeling the pipes with his hands, Gordon finds the right one & starts setting the charge up.

Reeling back from the painful but non-fatal flame attack, Tillis stands in the water as still as a statue as Batman eyed her carefully, watching & waiting for her to make any sudden moves.

"It's _over_, Tillis!", Batman said.

Ellen ignores his claims.

"And I always thought that you & Gordon believed in _justice_, Batman!", she snapped.

"That's the _first _true thing you've said all night, Tillis!", Batman argued. "Justice _is _what I firmly believe in, _not_ vengeance against those who defile & disgrace all that's still beautiful in the world! Unlike you, _I _don't go around killing those who prey on society, saying '_This _will show the lawbreakers of Gotham City that you don't commit crimes in _my _town', hoping that message will spread like a disease to the other criminals! Society doesn't _work _like that, Ellen! With what _you're _doing, you're even _more_ deranged & twisted than those you intend to punish! There's _no way _I'll let you harm a hair on _any_ of their heads, & I'll defend even them to my dying breath if need be!"

Tillis' eyes go wide in shock to Batman's response.

"I don't _believe _you, Batman!", she bellows. "You mean to say you actually _care _if those monsters live or die? _You're _as insane as any of _them_!"

Batman smirks. "Have you looked in the mirror lately?"

Ellen's eyes scowled menacingly & howled at the mocking Dark Knight for throwing her words back in her face. Enraged, she lashes out at Batman with her hands, not forming them into any pointed or sharp weapons, but with an uncontrollable desire to grab him & either melt all his flesh & bones into nothingness or simply crush the life out of him like he was a stick of butter or margarine.

And this time Batman wasn't swift enough: he gets scooped up by Tillis after the second attempt & holds him in her liquid hand like King Kong did to Ann Darrow in the classic 1933 movie, his arms & legs pinned against him by her tight grip, unable to move.

"Batman!", Gordon cries out as Tillis slams the Caped Crusader into a brick wall & begins to chuckle.

"So, what to do?", she scoffs. "Disintegration or squeezed to death? Which poison do you prefer, Batman? Or do you wish to be surprised?"

Tillis lets out a louder & more devilish guffaw, savoring her triumph over the Dark Knight as Gordon from behind has just finished setting the timer on his friend's charge, activating the countdown as the device beeps & flashes a green light & Jim gets to a safe distance away, not wishing to be in close proximity when it detonates.

Despite the speck of fear in him, Gordon pulls out his gun & fires a round at Tillis, the shot striking her in the back that goes through her but luckily doesn't hit Batman.

It succeeds in getting her attention.

"To reiterate Batman, it's _over_, Tillis!", Gordon shouted.

"Only for you & the Batman, Gordon!", she barks, tossing her cape & cowled foe against another brick wall as he slides down onto the concrete path. Her focus now on Jim, Ellen takes giant steps toward the Police Commissioner, but Gordon wasn't about to let her try & snatch _him _as she had done to his friend. He fires off a volley of gunshots—five in all—in an attempt to keep her distracted long enough to put more distance from the charge he planted. The bullets had ripped into Ellen's face, temporarily blinding her. But again, her recovery time was remarkable, & she spots Gordon running along the concrete path in Batman's direction, who fights to get up after his pick-up from the liquid monstrosity that is Ellen Tillis.

"Son of a _bitch_!", she bellowed, ramming an extended arm where Jim was a split-second ago. Although the blow missed Jim, it had succeeded in knocking him into the water with a splash.

"_Jim_!", Batman cried out.

Gordon surfaces, keeping his head above water as he gulps down air, seeing Tillis stetching out with an inhuman, liquidy hand. Gun still in hand, he fires frantically at the oncoming hand, but now they don't even slow her down in the slightest.

Ellen still isn't even aware of the charge continuing its countdown.

"You men are _finished_!", she says. "Once I kill you both, they'll be _no one _left to stop me from wiping out Gotham's criminal element! And since you're becoming the _problem _instead of the solution, your deaths will be…"

_That _was when Ellen Tillis finally notices the shaped charge clamped onto one of the large metal conduit pipes, & its light turns from green to red.

_BANG!_

The pipe rigged to blow gets severed from the explosion, separating the lower half from the upper one. Large live electrical wires lash out like electric eels or snakes & began falling down into the water—the water James W. Gordon is _still _splashing in!

Batman cries out his friend's name as he launches himself out to him, his arm reached out in hopes & prayers that he can pull him out before the live wires touch the drink.

It all happened so fast that not even Ellen Tillis could do anything to prevent what came next: the wires plunged into the water & turned it into a conductor. Tillis unleashed an extremely loud howl of agony as she, the water, & the entire room lit up with blue-white light. Millions of electrical voltage courses through the water & Tillis herself with the force of a tornado or even a hurricane as the voltage begins frying her alive, her liquid-ous form smoking all over from head to inhuman toe, charring & turning black before she starts flaking & shrivelng down like a dry leaf in the fall. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the liquidous creature that was once Dr. Ellen Tillis is reduced to nothing but harmless ash which float upon the water's surface.

That's when everything went dark.

It didn't stay that way for long, though: Batman lit an illuminating flare that relit the room & gets himself off of Gordon, having been pulled out of the water just in the nick of time before the wires hit home, taking Tillis out of the equation. Using a set of Batarangs, Batman throws then at the pipes that hit the water. The projectiles slice through the lines like knives through butter, severing the electrical current & making it safe to enter it again.

Returning to their owner, Batman catches his Batarangs & pockets them.

"That'll make it safe for the city engineers & electricians to repair the damage without risk of electrocution", he said to Gordon. His friend didn't answer; he was busy staring at the charred & inert remains of Dr. Ellen Tillis floating on the water, his eyes filled with exhaustion, but Batman can tell it was more than that,knowing the man for over ten years.

"Jim?", Batman said. "Are you all right? You seem like you're lost."

"Oh, uh, sorry about that", Jim said finally. "Just relieved that it's all over, I suppose—except for the inmates making a break for it."

Batman smiled. "I wouldn't worry too much about _that_, Jim. Don't forget who I've sent to round them up."

Gordon smiles back. "Of course. How silly of me. Let's worry instead on how we're getting _out _of here. Any longer down here, & I'll start to feel like _I'm _Killer Croc!"

"Not if _I _can help it", Batman said, his smile remaining on his face as he holds up a pair of Batarangs in front of Jim.

Gordon nods, never being more happier to have this man as his friend.

Even if he _does _wear a mask.

Like a living tide of madness, the inmates of Arkham Asylum race to the compound's front gates to freedom. Led by the Joker, Harley Quinn, Riddler, Two-Face, & the diabolical team of the Ventriloquist & Scarface, those behind them & the other costumed lunatics shout frantically in cheer, & those who were lucky enough to have snatched a firearm from guards who were killed by the liquid monsters that have tried to devour them, fire shots in the air as they cheered, complementing their victory.

Their cries & shouts of riumph continued until Scarface & the Ventriloquist turned to face them, the latter not being too happy about things.

"Hey, you grain-dead _maggots_!", he shouted, getting their attention & causing everyone to stop in their tracks. "That's _enough _a' that! We've only got so much ammunition in those guns! Let's _save_ those gullets until we get into _town_!"

The regular-suited inmates look at each other.

_They _weren't too happy about taking orders from a wooden puppet, & show their contempt towards it.

"Hey, _fuck you_, Pinochio!", one of the inmates with a rifle spat, an African-American man with a clean-shaven head who gives him the finger. "Who the hell died & made _you _the boss of us?"

Those behind him shout & curse in support of Black Baldie.

This made Scarface point his mini submachine gun at him, his wooden eyes showing his own contempt for disobedience.

"Please Mr. Scarface…", Arnold Wesker pleads.

"_Shaddup_, dummy!", he bellowed, cutting him off.

Scarface fires a round from his weapon, & the bullet hits Black Baldie in the head, going straight through. Blood & brain matter spew from both front & back holes from where Scarface's bullet entered as Blackie falls dead to the ground, leaving the regular-suited inmates speechless & stunned with eyes that are agape as they stare of Blackie's corpse.

"Well, I guess _that _got through to him!", the Joker quips, laughing a side-splitting guffaw.

"Ha! I guess a hole in the head really _is _what some people need!", Poison Ivy says.

"Oooh, _good _one, Red!", Harley Quinn praised with a wide grin.

Ivy grins back at her clown friend.

Scarface firmly addesses those who were following the now-deceased Black Baldie.

"Now _listen up_, 'cause I ain't gonna ge repeatin' myself!", he barks. "The _next_ dirtgag who needlessly wastes a gullet gets one from _me_—_right _getween the eyes, like _that _poor schmuck! You mugs _got _that?"

Scared, the inmates nod wordlessly.

"That's getter!"

"From this moment on, boys", Two-Face steps in, "you're our dogs! When we get to someplace safe, we'll divide you all into groups among us to _serve _us! When we say 'Jump!', you'll ask 'How high?'! _Comprende_?"

Again, the terrified inmates nod without a word.

"Ahh. Good help is _sooo _hard to find nowadays", Scarecrow quips. "Now, if we're done with the obedience lessons, might I suggest we make haste before those accursed police arrive & block our main escape?"

"Well put, Ichabod Crane", the Mad Hatter says. "Freedom is now only steps away, so let's not waste the time teaching our pets new tricks, shall we?"

"Onward!", bellowed Killer Croc, & the inmates were again on the march. This time, there were no guns blazing, let alone any shouts or cheers of victory, as Scarface's brief but bloody lesson of discipline set their 'followers' straight.

Savoring the triumph of their escape can come later.

Right now, they need to escape—period.

First, they need to get past what's ahead of them.

"Huh?"

The escapees all come to a halt when they get within twenty-five feet of the facility's front main gates. Nightwing, Catwoman, Huntress, & Batgirl were all standing in front of the gates, their arms folded across their chests, as still as statues.

"Well well, if it ain't Bat-Junior & the three Bat-Bitches!", Harley Quinn said in a half-mock.

"We _know _you people aren't about to leave the compounds of Arkham, right?", Huntress says, brandishing her staff as the others get into defensive positions.

"As a matter of fact, doll-face", Mr. Zsasz says menacingly, brandishing a letter opener he found within the building. "That's _just _what we're gonna do!"

"That's _not _going to happen, Victor!", Catwoman said firmly, readying her bullwhip.

All the inmates look at one another for a brief moment, chuckling afterwards.

"My dear mistress, surely you jest by way of thinking that you four request us all to return to Arkham & back into our cells there", the Mad Hatter says.

"She isn't jesting, Jervis", Batgirl said.

"And we're not _requesting _you to do so", Nightwing adds, Escrima sticks in hand. "Now, you all be good little boys & girls, turn around,& start walking back to your cells."

"And if we should all refuse?", Riddler says.

The four heroes stand poised for action like statues, weapons at the ready & not uttering a word. Even silent, their positions say it all: they'll stand & fight to the death to prevent any of them leaving the asylum grounds.

"Huh! That's what we _thought_!", Scarface says, pointing his weapon & addressing his underlings. "All right, youse mugs! _Waste _the Gat's partners so's that we can…"

With lightning speed, Nightwing throws his Escrima stick from his left hand at Scarface's wooden head. The blow knocks the wooden appendage clean off his shoulders as if he were skewered by a scythe or machete. It flies off & rolls away from the crowd like a ball as the Ventriloquist follows in hot pursuit past the bewildered convicts & costumed rogues.

"Mr. Scarface!", he says, his hand placed out in front in a struggling attempt to catch his boss' head.

"I'm _hit_, goys!", said Scarface, rolling away. "_Get 'em_!"

Once the brief act of comedy was over, things got utterly serious as those with guns (which include Two-Face & Joker) aim their weapons at the quartet of Gotham's defenders & fire off a deafening barrage of bullets. That was when the four finally get fluid & scatter to avoid the deadly hail of flying metal. As a whole unit, Nightwing, Huntress, Batgirl, & Catwoman all dive into the maddening crowd of insanity & begin punching, kicking, buffeting, & knocking guns out of the inmates. The ones with the guns had been naturally dealt with first, getting their firearms taken & either tossed far out of reach or broken upon impact by a well-placed kick, swift jab of a fist, or an excellently-timed swipe of a non-lethal weapon of their own, be it Escrima stick, bullwhip, or metal staff. A minute or three passes after the shooting began, & since then, most of those with the guns in their brief possession were knocked to the ground, unconscious for the most part.

As the hero quartet regroup near the gates, Huntress asks the belligerent mob, "So, have you all had enough, or to quote Makulay Culkin, 'Are you thirsty for more'?"

"Sweetheart, we're just getting started!", said Two-Face, as he & the Joker were the only two with guns to still be conscious after the thrashing they received.

"Yes", Joker growls as he & Two-Face rise to their feet. "You kiddies have made Uncle Joker & his friends _verrry _angry, & now you're all going to have to be severely punished for it! Get ready for a grand-old spanking, & believe me, children, this is gonna hurt _you _a helluva lot more than it will _us_!"

Laughing at the thought of seeing the heroes being turned into swiss cheese, the Joker & Two-Face pull out an extra Glock hidden within their sleeves—ones they'd taken from another pair of unlucky security guards before 'Jokerizing' two later & relieving them of their guns.

"Made you look!", the Clown Prince of Crime says, firing off a volley of bullets along with Two-Face at two of the nearest heroes—Huntress & Catwoman.

Luckily, none of their rounds ever hit the heroines, & it wasn't due to their agility & literal cat-like reflexes. Neither Helena nor Selina had to move a muscle to dodge the bullets: from out of nowhere, a woman leaps into the path of the oncoming shots & blocks each one with what seems to be a pair of silver bracelets, one worn on each of the woman's forearms. Hero & Arkham inmate alike gasp in awe & surprise at the female's sudden appearance. She stood just over six feet in height, has long jet black hair, red star earrings, a gold tiara placed upon her forehead. Her outfit is what looks like a woman's bathing suit that covers her body, leaving her arms & legs bare. Yellow, red, blue, white, & gold decorate it in an American flaglike fashion, & her red boots were outfitted with a white vertical stripe, & a golden lasso hung on her side.

She is the Amazon Princess of the island known as Themyscira.

To her friends, she is called Diana.

But to most everyone else, she is called by what the late publicist Mindi Mayer of Boston had granted her with.

"Wonder Woman!", said the Mad Hatter.

"So, what brings _you _here from your pretty little island, girlfriend?", Poison Ivy asks.

"I don't like those who take pot shots at my friends!", Diana says. "_And _I'm here to help them take you back to where you foul fiends belong!"

"Uh, maybe we _should _all turn back and…", an overweight inmate began.

"_Shut up_!", Killer Croc snapped, cutting him off. "Just because there's now an actual super-hero in their midst, it doesn't mean we're gonna give up heading for the front door to freedom!" Killer Croc steps to the front of the group, which a good number of the inmates & costumed lunatics gladly give way for him to get through. "Let's have a little one-on-one, babe—you & me, with everyone on the sidelines! Whaddya say?"

"I'm game if you are, reptile!", Wonder Woman said boldly.

"Ha! That's what I thought!", Croc said, turning to the others. "You heard it here, folks! The Wonder-babe & I fight to decide our fate, so stand aside & allow me to win our ticket!"

The inmates nod & agree to the terms, moving back to offer the two combatants breathing space. While they worry of the probability of the G.C.P.D. & even the SWAT teams on their way over, it could be worth the delay if Waylon Jones, a.k.a. Killer Croc, can put down & defeat their new uninvited guest; if he can take _her _down, then neither the authorities nor the members of the Bat-Family can hope to stop them once they make their move.

When they were done, an area of nearly thirty feet separated the inmate group from the quartet of Gotham's protectors.

"She's all yours, Mr. Jones", Scarecrow says & chuckles wickedly.

"Fascinating", said the Riddler. "If I'd known we'd run into the Amazon Princess during our escape, I would've taken a video camcorder from inside the asylum & record all the fun for prosperity."

"And a trophy to boot!", Mr. Zsasz grins.

"What a show _this _is going to be!", the Joker said. "Wonder-babe vs. the Godzilla wannabe! And I forgot to bring the popcorn!"

The Joker laughs as Wonder Woman turns to Nightwing & company.

"You four do the same", she says politely. "I gave my word that only I shall engage Killer Croc in battle. Agreed?"

"Agreed", Nightwing, Huntress, Batgirl, & Catwoman say in unison & giving space themselves, their backs nearly touching the front gates.

"You done saying goodbye to your friends, doll?", Killer Croc snarled.

Diana stared defiantly at her inhuman enemy, her face as hard as any warrior's.

"I'm ready, Waylon Jones!", she says.

"Good! I've always wondered what Amazonian flesh tastes like! Now I get to find out!"

Leaping with all his might, Killer Croc rushes toward Diana with such amazing speed, it catches even _her _off-guard. She barely has enough time to place a hand on his scaly chest & the other on his right wrist as the combatants go down, with Croc being on top, his crocodilian mandibles snapping at her face & neck.

_Great Hera!_, she thought as she fought to keep him from biting down on her, the hot, sticky breath on her face. _He's as deadly as his namesake, & just as powerful! If I don't start taking him seriously, he _will _be the victor of our scuffle! I shall _not _allow that to happen!_

Her left hand still grabbing Croc's right wrist, Diana jabs it into his face just as he attempts another biting down on her. Croc ends up biting his own hand in the process, & he lets out a roar of pain at having bitten himself. This gives Diana the time she needs to act, & she places a right fist into his chest that sends Croc back twelve feet, landing hard on the dirt. It didn't faze him: like almost any predatory animal, he gets back on his feet as Wonder Woman does the same. The two stare down each other in the eye, with neither giving an inch or showing any trepidation. Roaring in fury, Killer Croc rushes the Amazon Princess on foot & swipes his tail with the ferocity of a bullwhip that would've stung like hell had Wonder Woman not avoid it in time by ducking down & narrowly missing her face. Getting down on all fours, Croc races at Diana & rakes at her with his deadly claws. All he manages to strike are her silver bracelets that make a loud _clang _as sharp nails strike metal made & forged by the Gods themselves. Killer Croc continues in slashing his claws at Diana with relentless fury, blocking each rake with her bracelets; Waylon Jones neither knows nor cares if he did that Diana's bracelets are heavenly made. All he knows is that Wonder Woman is just another enemy attempting to block his path to Gotham City & freedom like his fellow inmates, & all he cares about is putting her down for daring to thwart his escape.

Diana does not give him the chance: when she sees an opening in his assault on her, she does not hesitate in taking the offensive. With a swift & powerful kick, she drives home her right foot into Killer Croc's solar plexus, knocking the wind out of his lungs & sends him back to the front line of the other inmates, sprawling on the ground & seemingly unconscious. Approaching with the extremist of cautions, Wonder Woman inspects the seemingly defeated, mutated form of Waylon Jones lying on the ground, his breathing in small,ragged gasps & his eyes shut.

_Be careful with him, girlfriend_, thought Catwoman. _Killer Croc is no pushover. Aside from Bruce himself, I know that best._

_Don't underestimate him for one second, Wonder Woman_, Huntress thought, remembering the time she fought Croc in the city sewers when she believed that he had literally consumed Robin. _Waylon Jones is a literal animal, pure & simple._

Harley Quinn herself can say the same thing about Jones, having tangoed with the big lug at a bowling alley at one time—_if_ she were wanting & willing to.

Wonder Woman bends down over Croc, her arms raised so that her bracelets protect her face in case he suddenly strikes her face with his claws.

Unfortunately for Diana, Killer Croc _does _strike, but not with his claws.

Leaving her arms at her face left the Amazon Princess vulnerable to her midsection. Now it was Jones' turn for a kick of his own to his foe's solar plexus. A powerful left foot jabs into Wonder Woman's stomach which doesn't send her flying backwards as she did to Croc, but it _does _stagger & knock the wind out of her for a couple moments, but that was all Killer Croc needed to press his advantage. With a swipe of his right hand, Croc slashes Diana across a portion of her face & her chest & stomach, leaving cuts that draw Amazonian blood. This time, his attack _does _knock her backwards, landing five feet before Nightwing & the other white hats, bleeding.

Killer Croc gets to his feet as Diana struggles to get to hers.

"You shoulda' _killed _me when you had the chance, girlie!", Croc roared as he runs after his Amazonian enemy, his claws poised & ready to finish the job he started with the other inmates egging him on. "Now I get to claim your head for a nice _trophy_!"

Her vision blurry & her stamina depleted to a degree from blood loss, Wonder Woman sees Killer Croc rushing after her, but in her current condition, she's unable to do much of anything to prevent what comes her way.

Croc gets within striking distance & pulls back his left hand.

He then drives it forward with all his might.

A red & blue blurry streak rushes in front of Croc, placing itself between him & Diana.

It was Superman!

Before Killer Croc can stop himself, his left hand lands full force into the right side of the Kryptonian's cheek. A loud cracking of bones can be heard by everyone in the yard, followed by a bellow of anguish by the crocodile man—a noise even louder than the bones breaking.

"Not _tonight_, reptile!", Superman said, forming a circle with the thumb & index finger from his right hand. Placing it within millimeters from Croc's face, the Man of Steel flicks his forefinger upwards, hitting Croc between his eyes, sending him flying back towards the other inmates who stare in shock at the abrupt turn of events with Superman appearing out of nowhere, as _his _presence surprised them as much as Wonder Woman's did, never suspecting that he was under their watchful eye the whole time, disguised as the Chief Security Guard before all hell broke loose with the liquid humans & Dr. Ellen Tillis.

"Are you okay, Diana?", he asks her, keeping his sights on the other inmates as Nightwing & his party rush to Diana's aide.

"A bit scratched up, but it's still nothing serious", she said, looking at the quartet. "Thank you, friends."

"Anytime", said Batgirl.

"That was close, Diana", said Nightwing. "Even _I _thought you were a goner."

"I wouldn't necessarily say _that_, Nightwing", Catwoman says. "We had the perfect ace up our sleeve."

"I guess in all the excitement, I must've forgotten", Nightwing says with a grin. "And I'm the one who invited them here,too!"

"An understandable error, Nightwing", Diana says. "It can happen to even the best of us."

"Speaking of our 'ace'", Huntress says, looking directly at Superman, "not to be rude, but where the hell _were _you? With your abilities, this could've been over in nothing flat & Wonder Woman wouldn't be bloodletting right now."

Superman turns to her, grinning. "And deprive you & the rest of having some fun, Huntress? Perish the thought."

Huntress returns the gesture. She had to admit—knocking the stuffing out of the inmates _was _fun she'd hate to be deprived of, & that same feeling went for the others.

"As for my wounds, don't be too alarmed", said Wonder Woman. "I'm quite the healer."

The half-dozen heroes turn to the inmates, their demeanors firmly serious.

"Now—anyone else wish to tango?", Superman asks grimly, his arms folded across his massive chest. "Or are you gonna be good little boys & girls & head back to your cells in Arkham?"

The inmates look at each other & the unconscious form (really!) of Killer Croc in utter silence. Wonder Woman's unexpected presence may have been tolerated by them, with Killer Croc nearly becoming the victor during their scuffle, & which would've happened if not for the timely intervention of the Kryptonian.

But Superman? _That's _an experience they'd be happy to skip, especially with no kryptonite in their bag of tricks to take them down or even magic—the Man of Steel's only two known vulnerabilities.

Two-Face turns to the inmate whom Killer Croc snapped at before. "Uh, maybe we'll take your advice this time, chubby", he says solemnly. Chubby nods.

"L-Let's go back inside, Mr. Scarface", said Arnold Wesker, finally seizing the head of his boss & placing it back onto his shoulders. "Where it's safe—I hope."

Scarface turns his head to him. "That's the second smart thing you've said tonight, dummy", he says, almost sincerely. "They'll ge a reckoning for this—and soon."

"Curses! Foiled again!", the Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, & Rddler say imitating a classic B-movie villain, with the latter two twitching imaginary mustaches.

_At least he doesn't have the dog with him this time!_, Poison Ivy thought, remembering how she utterly ran into Krypto when 'visiting' the Metropolis Plaza. _Oh, how I _hate _that mutt!_

"Ah well, Arkham _is _rather nice this time of year, what with the holidays coming up!", the Joker says with a grin, always trying to look at the brighter side of things during a defeat.

His grin disappears in a heartbeat when the inmates gather around him, their faces a most unhappy demeanor, their mouths an angry sneer. Regular inmates & fellow costumed lunatics do _not_ share the Joker's quirky enthusiasm, & the looks on their faces is solid proof of it.

"Wh-_oop_sie!", he says, his mouth in a frown & his eyes agape.

With Superman carrying the unconscious Killer Croc on his shoulders & the arrival of the G.C.P.D., Nightwing, Batgirl, & Wonder Woman lead the inmates back into Arkham once the Man of Steel gets word from Batman that the menace of the liquid humans & Ellen Tillis has been dealt with but good. Huntress & Catwoman have fled the scene, for fear of their reputations of using harsh, violent methods & being a one-time thief may not go over well with the officers. It was perfectly all right with the others, with Nightwing saying the rest can be handled on their own, getting assistance from Gotham's finest, with Detective Renee Montoya leading the charge.

The only one not accounted for in the pile was the Joker himself, as he was hanging at the end of a thick branch on a tree in the courtyard by his underwear, receiving the ultimate wedgie from his fellow inmates after they beat him to a pulp for his wiseass remark before. His purple suit was torn in numerous places, & he received many bruises all over, including a black eye & a bloody nose & mouth.

Even now, he keeps his comical composure.

"Was it something I said?", he says in a raspy voice to an invisible audience only he can see, chuckling.

Just another typical day at Arkham Asylum.

**EPILOGUE**

Eventually, the Joker was brought back into Arkham by authorities & placed right into the infirmary for his wounds to be treated. With help from Superman, Wonder Woman, & Jim Gordon, Arkham Asylum was back in proper working order in practically no time. The inmate Scarface had shot dead during their attempted escape was given a proper burial at Gotham Cemetary once his identity was revealed to be Jack Schultz, a two-time bank robber who only committed the act in order to feed his desperate family when his bank refused to grant him the money to pay for a mortgage which was long overdue. It resulted in his wife & fifteen-year-old daughter living on the streets, dying from a combo of poverty & starvation. This made Schultz snap & during his second robbery, he not only robbed his one-time bank, he shot each one of the tellers for their treachery, killing them instantly. Because of his crime, he was apprehended by the Batman before being escorted by police & sent to Arkham Asylum for a minimum of twenty years.

Aside from his atrocious acts of violence, Jack Schultz still didn't deserve the fate handed to him by Scarface, & the decision to have him buried alongside his family was the one who first brought him to justice—Batman.

James Gordon told his longtime friend that he will personally see to it, along with the bodies of Thomas Cornell, Joshua Sanchez, & both of their wives; tragic as their deaths were at the hands of Ellen Tillis, they didn't deserve their fates any more than Jack Schultz himself did.

As for all those who have fallen prey to the liquid humans, the only thing left of them were the clothes they wore, so they were all gathered up & tossed into a pile to be burned as prayers had been said aloud by Gordon & company. While Jack Schultz will have to wait to be buried until the day right before Thanksgiving Day, the incineration of the clothing of liquid human victims couldn't, & was done only an hour ago.

Now, it was between 6:30 & 7:00 a.m. on a Monday morning with the sun only moments away from making an appearance. By now, James Gordon has headed home for a much-needed & deserved rest, but Batman stood atop a building right across the street from City Hall, accompanied by Superman & Wonder Woman.

"Mr. Freeze was located?", Batman asked his two friends.

"Near the Gotham Light & Power Plant, where he made his temporary HQ during No Man's Land", Superman said. "After a brief but intense battle, Diana & I managed to strip him of his suit & place him back in Arkham with the rest."

"Good work. I…thank you for the assist."

"Think nothing of it, Bruce", Diana said. "We promised Nightwing we'd help round up _all _of Arkham's inmates, & that includes Freeze. Fortunately, no casualties or heavy damage to the plant were sustained."

"Anything on Ellen Tillis?", Superman asked.

"I've checked her files while you two were battling Freeze", said Batman, facing them. "To my surprise, I saw nothing within it that would cause her to snap the way she did. The best I can surmise is that she simply had enough of the evil which the likes of the Joker, Two-Face, Riddler, & countless others spread across this city, & has decided to do something about it on her own in ways none of us thought possible."

"It's not the first time that sort of thing has happened, Bruce", Diana said. "And I doubt that it will be the last."

Batman pondered Diana's words. As always, she speaks truthfully: Batman has encountered numerous individuals that have taken the law into their own hands as he basically has, but use methods in which he doesn't approve of. One of them is G.C.P.D. officer Billy Pettit, one of Jim Gordon's boys who just couldn't stand playing by the policeman's oath any longer during NML & allow criminals to prey upon the weak & helpless. On the Christmas Eve of that dreadful year, the Joker paid Pettit a visit at an abandoned building on the West Side, setting up hostages (his own people) disguised as him in Joker makeup & outfits, goading Billy to take potshots. All Billy managed to do was kill his own men before getting killed by the real deal.

There were two others who have donned costumes & dealt out harsh, fatal judgement to Gotham's underworld. One is Lonnie Machin, a teenager who was disgusted by the corruption of corporations & criminals. Therefore, he donned a red cloak, yellow mask, & taser staff, taking the name of Anarky. After being defeated by Batman, Machin was sent to Gotham Juvenile Corrections Hall for rehabilitation. Even when he worked alongside such heroes as Green Lantern, Robin, & Young Justice (a team consisting of the Boy Wonder, Secret (Greta Hayes), Empress (Anita Fite), Impulse (Bart Allen), Superboy (Kon-El, a.k.a. Connor Kent), & Wonder Girl (Cassandra 'Cassie' Sandsmark), Batman still doesn't fully trust the red-cloaked vigilante any more than he can throw him. Another example is Judson Caspian, a wealthy man like Bruce Wayne with a similar tragedy parallel to his own. During a walk home from a fun-filled day at the circus, Judson, his wife Mary, & their daughter Rachel (Mary's middle name, coincidentally) were walking home when they had been ambushed by a masked burglar who had just robbed their home. Judson tried to apprehend the man but was wounded by a gun the masked man had on him. Mary wasn't so lucky: she was shot in the chest & killed as Rachel watched in horror. Guilt-ridden over the events, Judson wore a red body suit of leather armor, black cape, & metal spiked balls over his hands that each had a curved, sharp sickle on them. Preying upon Gotham's criminals, he was named The Reaper, & had lived up to his name by literally cutting criminals down to size with his weapons. During their final encounter in a building under construction, after learning Batman's true identity of Bruce Wayne, Judson realized the error of his crimefighting ways & plunged off the edge to his death, but not before telling Bruce about what a fine replacement he will be for him, as the Reaper was Gotham's actual first vigilante who turned killer.

Batman almost became one himself, & on more than one occasion. In an attempt to bring down the Reaper, he teamed up with the man seemingly responsible for his parent's deaths—a man by the name of Joe Chill. He even went so far as to carry a gun, the same gun that took the lives of his parents 20 years previous. When Chill was killed by the Reaper & he in turn fell to his demise, Batman's vow of never using firearms in his war against crime was reestablished. The same is said for when he almost killed the Joker for Thomas Elliot's death—a crime the Joker was actually _innocent _of. If not for the intervention of Jim Gordon, Batman would've now become the very thing he has dedicated his life to stopping: a criminal.

Now it was Dr. Ellen Tillis who has gone rogue by turning ordinary people into mutable & pliable creatures—ones that have first terrorized Tokyo back in 1958—and turn them loose upon Gotham's criminals, past & present. While her feelings for those who prey on the innocent were understandable to Batman (if not more so than anyone else), he still would not tolerate that kind of rough, unforgiving justice in Gotham, no matter what the circumstances were. Anyone who even dares to think of such an atrocity in his town will answer to him, plain & simple. It relieves him to know that the terror of the liquid humans has finally passed, & that no one else in Gotham, criminal or not, would need to be afraid of their reign of terror again.

His only regret about it is that he wished there was a way of converting them back to the way they were as human beings. The downside is, Nightwing, Alfred, & the rest have seen the files from Professor Masada & the late Detective Tominaga, two people who have lived through the liquid human's rampage the first time fifty years ago. They confirmed that there was no cure for what the people in the Chinatown warehouse were exposed to: once someone became a liquid human, they _stay _that way.

Frying or burning them to a crisp was, for once, the only way to stop them. The _only _way.

Batman may not have liked the option, but he knew they had to be stopped at any cost; they were more dangerous than _anyone _in Arkham, & the inmates there can attest to that fact.

In response to Wonder Woman's statement, Batman nodded.

"As long as there are criminals who prey upon society or innocent people who think that murder is the only solution to a problem, I'll always be here to put a stop to it", he added.

"That's something the three of us can always agree upon, even if we don't do so with each other's methods in combat", said Superman.

Batman stays silent again, this time thinking about the first time the three of them had ever formed an alliance. It was when the eco-terrorist Ra's al Ghul (a man whose real name was lost to the sands of time & has lived for generations, thanks to the life-giving & healing Lazarus Pits) as he planned to throw the world into chaos by disrupting all the planet's communications, sending stolen nuclear weapons above Earth's orbit & detonating them. Were it not for the combined might of these three heroes & their cooperation with each other, his mad plan would've more than succeeded.

Although Batman prefers to work solo for most of the time, he has found a degree of comfort in working together with these two super-powered individuals, along with his own Bat-Family of Robin, Nightwing, Batgirl, Catwoman, & even Huntress (on occasion) when circumstances force his hand.

He's discovered that it isn't so bad to have those watching your back.

"Yes, we can", is what Batman says of it.

But he wasn't done talking in general. "Clark, Diana…I've been thinking of throwing a gourmet Thanksgiving dinner at the Manor this Thursday. Care to join Alfred & I?"

Neither Superman nor Wonder Woman were prepared to hear Batman say something as pleasant as an invitation to his home (_not_ speaking of the Batcave), & they had a bit of trouble in answering his request.

"You're actually…_inviting _us over to your home? On Thanksgiving Day?", Superman asks.

"Call it a way of giving my thanks for helping us rid my city of the liquid human's horror", Batman says.

"Bruce, you don't need to repay us in any way", Diana said. "Nightwing simply asked Clark & myself for extra assistance in the matter, & we were willing to help, just like that."

"But since you asked", Kal-El adds, "I think Diana & I would be honored to come by this Thursday for Turkey Day. I'll ask Lois, & perhaps even Perry White, if they'd like to join me."

"And I shall do the same with my mother, & even Donna Troy", Diana said. "I'm sure Dick would be quite pleased with the invite."

"Ask Cassandra Sandsmark as well", Batman requested. "Tim's coming home from a Titans mission later today, & the notion of having them together besides the tower in San Fransisco will do them good."

_It would at that_, thought Diana. _Both of them have suffered much not too long ago, what with the losses of both Stephanie Brown, a.k.a. The Spoiler, & Conner Kent, a.k.a. Superboy. Both their deaths still have a devastating blow to Tim & Cassie, & being together on Thanksgiving Day can help to ease the pain by socializing on a holiday._

"I don't think that'll be a problem, Bruce", she says aloud.

"Then it's settled", said Superman. "We'll be seeing you this Thursday."

"Anytime after five will do", Batman informs them.

Wonder Woman & Superman nod as the first rays of sunshine break over the horizon on a clear Monday morning, & the trio of heroes gaze into its radiant shine.

Diana turns to Batman. "Another beautiful day in Gotham City. Try to enjoy it", she says, as she & Superman take to the air, but not before Superman has his say. "Happy Thanksgiving, Bruce. Remember to call us if you need us before then."

_Clark. Always needing to have the last word_, Batman thought as he watches his two friends soar across the morning sky, disappearing after several moments as he continues staring at the sun which keeps rising over the eastern sky, bathing the city in its illuminating glow. Even he has to agree—it _is _a most beautiful day, & he is actually glad to be alive to see it with his own two eyes.

It makes him smile.

It's a rare moment, but it's one he savors.

The mini-com in his ear rings, & Alfred's voice comes through.

"Master Bruce?"

"Right here, Alfred", Batman said. "What is it?"

"Forgive my intrusion, sir, but I couldn't help but notice on the computer that you've sent a 'special delivery' of some kind. Mind if I require to ask what this is all about, sir?"

Batman smirks. "No apologies necessary, Alfred. It's simply a last minute ethic of tying up a loose end, one that will take care of things on its own. However, there's something I need for you to take care of today."

"What shall that be, Master Bruce?"

"I want you to pick up a nice Thanksgiving turkey for Thursday & everything else that will make a complete feast for it."

Alfred was silent for several moments before answering. "Excuse me, sir, but did you just say…"

Batman finishes for him. "Yes, Alfred. We're planning a Thanksgiving Day dinner, & we're going to have guests over. Think you can manage all that cooking by yourself?"

"Sir, you don't know how _long _I've waited for the chance. I shall start the shopping at eight sharp."

"That will do fine, Alfred. See you soon."

He signs off, watching the sun rise more.

_The Gobi Desert:_

It was located deep underneath the sandy surface, safe from prying eyes & cloaked from any satellite which may scan the area. In the manmade caverns of steel & stone, dozens of men & women dressed in black full-bodied suits, gray boots & gloves, a pair of green-tinted goggles, & armed with high-powered assault rifles were busy laboring equipment & weaponry from place to place, mostly in groups of two or three to six. The caverns were lit by strings of light bulbs which have been clamped between the walls & ceilings on either side for the best illumination. In this particular room, it was a dome that had a large hexagontal podium that took up half the space of the room & stood ten feet high, with a metal railing encircling the top & staircase being the only access up from floor level.

Overlooking the laborers is a lone individual who stands six feet & five inches tall, wearing a black tailored suit & shoes, & a white undershirt with black tie. A green cloak rests upon his shoulders, matching his eyes. His hair was all white with a speck of gray tint, covering half of the top & the sides & back of his head, leaving the front part bald. No one knows his true age, as it has been lost in time along with his real name. What _is _known about him is that he has lived for many lifetimes, gaining wealth, power, followers to his cause, & a vast array of knowledge that serves his goals of remaking the planet Earth in his image—even if it means eradicating the entire population to do it.

He is an international eco-terrorist & a madman.

He is known as 'The Demon's Head', as it is translated from Arabic.

He is Ra's al Ghul.

Watching his men like a drill sergeant or a General, Ra's hears footsteps & turns to see a seven-foot-tall black man dressed in black, minus the gloves & mask & revealing a clean-shaven head, with a sword in one hand & a rifle slung over his shoulder.

Ra's calls him by the position he is meant to serve as.

"Ubu. Do you bring me news, I gather?"

Ubu bows in respect to his lord & master.

"Yes I do, great Demon's Head."

"Then do not keep me waiting. Out with it!"

Ubu nods as he stands. "We were following your instructions as you commanded about the incident in Gotham City upon hearing it, & then…"

When Ubu didn't supply Ra's with the rest of his answer, the Demon's Head scowled his eyes in contempt, which is _never _a good sign.

"_Did _you or did you not receive what I asked for?", he spat. "_Speak_!"

"W-We were on the verge of getting the information transferred to our computer files when suddenly…"

Ra's bared his teeth as an angry dog would. "Something went _wrong_? Is _that _what you're telling me, Ubu? _How_?"

"M-My lord, I believe it is best if you come see for yourself."

Ubu was trembling inside, fearing that his lord & master will deem him unworthy & claim his life. Ra's is a man who does not take disobedience or incompetence lightly by any of those whose sole pourpose is to serve & give their life to him by any means. Only his mortal daughter Talia would have the gall to oppose him, as she has done & strayed from him, wanting no part in his schemes as of late.

Taking in a breath of air & releasing it, Ra's al Ghul speaks to Ubu in a more calmly tone.

"Very well, Ubu. Come with me."

"Yes, master."

With Ra's leading the way, Ubu heads to the main computer console of their headquarters which took up most of the wall it was grafted & embedded into. Its main screen was the height of a person, & twice as long horizontally. Four operators sat at the terminal, pressing buttons & turning switches frantically in an attempt to undo the image of streaks & black & white fuzz stretched across the screen. Ra's heard the commotion even before he entered the room & raced to the screen, pushing away those stationed there.

Ra's tried clearing the interference himself, but was no more successful than his henchmen were.

"_No_! This cannot be!", he bellowed, banging his fists on the keyboard. He turns to his staff, clearly furious. "What _happened_ here? _Which_ one of you is responsible for this?"

Before anyone could respond, the screen—now devoid of any interference—comes to life & begins flashing the phrase 'Incoming Message' in black letters on a red background. Ra's, Ubu, & everyone in the room watched the screen as the message presented itself.

It read as follows:

RA'S

I KNEW YOU WOULD FOLLOW THE EVENTS INCOGNITO OF THE ATTACK ON GOTHAM BY THE LIQUID HUMANS & TRY TO DUPLICATE THE PROCESS AS DR. ELLEN TILLIS HAD DONE, AS THIS WAS TOO GOOD FOR YOU TO PASS UP IN YOUR INSANE SCHEME OF GLOBAL GENOCIDE. THEREFORE, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF SABOTAGING YOUR COMPUTER WITH A VIRUS TO ERADICATE THE VITAL INFO YOU WOULD NEED. SHOULD YOU ATTEMPT ANY FURTHER SEARCHING OF THE LIQUID HUMAN'S FILES ANYWHERE IN THE WORLD, THE VIRUS I INJECTED INTO YOUR SYSTEMS WILL ONLY REPEAT THE PROCESS & DESTROY ALL TRACES OF IT. THIS IS ONE BATTLE YOU WILL NEVER WIN, RA'S.

BATMAN

After a certain amount of time (preferably so that Ra's & his followers can read the message in full), the computer screen returns to normal & goes black, with a white cursor flashing at the upper left-hand corner being the only thing alive on it.

Ra's al Ghul scowls even more menacingly than before. The Batman was the one thorn in Ra's' side for many years, thwarting his every scheme—the world communications blackout, the Ebola Gulf-A outbreak, the Tower of Babel incident which involved the famed Justice League of America, & others. Ironically, Ra's deemed him the one man who was capable of winning the heart of his daughter Talia & inheriting a paradise. When the Dark Knight refused his offer, they became enemies, clashing constantly & widening the rift between father & daughter. Ra's both loathed & admired the Batman's tenacity, & while he doesn't see, let alone comprehend, why the Detective refuses to see the bigger picture of his goal & despises his constant interference of it, he still views him as the one to take his rightful place as heir to his empire & husband to Talia.

One way or another, he _will _triumph in that.

"Well played, Detective", Ra's said with respect. "I'd nearly forgotten how most resourceful you are. However, you are only half-right in your assumption: this battle may be over, but you've haven't even _begun _to win the war. Somehow, I _will _obtain the information of the power of the liquid humans, & when I do, we shall begin what Dr. Ellen Tillis started in your beloved Gotham City…with the rest of the world to follow thereafter!"

Ra's al Ghul's mouth forms a smile which would make a jackal or hyena proud.

**MEMORIALS**

2006 Memorials:

Phyllis Huffman, Casting Director of Oscar-Winning Films, 61 (1944-2006)

Kirby Puckett, Baseball Hall of Famer, 45 (1960-2006)

Gordon Parks, Photographer, Filmmaker & Author, 93 (1912-2006)

Ali Farka Toure, Grammy-Winning African Musician, 66 or 67 (1938 or 1939-2006)

Anna Moffo, Metrpolitan Opera Soprano, 73 (1932-2006)

Maureen Stapleton, Award-Winning Actress, 80 (1925-2006)

Leslie Hanscom, Ex-Newsday Writer, Editor, 82 (1923-2006)

Nick Barone, Champion Boxer, 79 (1926-2006)

Red Storey, Fabled NHL Referee, 88 (1917-2006)

Oleg Cassini, Dapper Designer, 91 (1914-2006)

Narvin Kimball, Musician, Singer, 97 (1908-2006)

Bill Beutel, Vetaran ABC Anchor (age unknown)

Joseph Bova, Tony-Nominated Actor, 81 (1924-2006)

Buck Owens, Country Music Legend, 76 (1929-2006)

Stanislaw Lem, Polish Science-Fiction Writer, 84 (1921-2006)

Dan Curtis, Producer & Director, 78 (1927-2006)

Lyn Nofziger, Reagan Press Secretary, 71 (1934-2006)

Caspan W. Weinberger, Reagan's Defense Secretary, 88 (1917-2006)

Jackie McClean, Jazz Musician, 73 (1932-2006)

Gene Pitney, Hitmaker & Hall of Famer, 65 (1941-2006)

Jim Clack, Ex-Giants Lineman, 58 (1947-2006)

Gretchen Rau, Oscar-Winning Set Decorator, 66 (1939-2006)

Deshaun 'Proof' Holton, Famed Rap Star, 30 (1975-2006)

Gene Scott, Tennis Pro, Columnist, 68 (1937-2006)

June Pointer, Youngest Member of the Pointer Sisters Group, 52 (1953-2006)

Walter Clyde 'Puggy' Pearson, Poker Legend, 77 (1929-2006)

Muriel Spark, Author, 88 (1918-2006)

Louise Smith, NASCAR Pioneer, 89 (1916-2006)

Dennis Duggan, Newspaperman & Columnist, 78 (1927-2006)

William P. Gottlieb, Photographed Jazz Greats, 89 (1916-2006)

Alida Valli, Actress, Starred in 'The Third Man', 84 (1921-2006)

Stanley Hiller Jr., Invented the Helicopter As a Teen, 81 (1925-2006)

Louis Rukeyser, TV Host, 73 (1933-2006)

Earl Woods, Father of Golf Great Tiger Woods, 74 (1932-2006)

Sidney Seidenberg, Former Manager For B.B. King, 81 (1925-2006)

Herbert Burkholz, Mystery Writer, 73 (1933-2006)

Lillian Asplund, Last American Titanic Survivor, 99 (1907-2006)

John Sims, Editor for Daily News, 65 (1941-2006)

J.K. Galbraith, Author, Wrote 'The Affluent Society', 97 (1909-2006)

Florence Mars, Aided In Mississippi Civil Rights Case, 83 (1923-2006)

William Durkin, Saved Howard Hughes, 89 (1916-2006)

Arnold J. Mott, Built Airplanes, 88 (1918-2006)

Jim Delsing, Outfielder, 80 (1926-2006)

George Lee Lutz, Owner of 'Amityville Horror' House, 59 (1947-2006)

A.M. Rosenthal, Editor Who Reshaped N.Y. Times, 84 (1922-2006)

Soraya Lamilla, Grammy-Winning Singer, 37 (1969-2006)

Floyd Patterson, Heavyweight Boxing Champion, 71 (1935-2006)

Edward 'Little Buster' Forehand, Bluesman, 63 (1943-2006)

Jim Lemon, Slugging Outfielder, 78 (1928-2006)

Milt Papps, Goaltender for Eastern League LI Ducks, 84 (1922-2006)

Dacia Dunson, Former Newsday Copy Editor, 33 (1973-2006)

Dan Ross, Receptionist for Cincinnati Bengals, 49 (1957-2006)

Lew Anderson, Last Clarabell the Clown on 'Howdy Doody', 84 (1922-2006)

Bill Garrett, Ex-Newsday Editor, 83 (1923-2006)

2008 Memorials:

Sheldon Keller, TV Comedy Writer of the 1950s, 85 (1923-2008)

Don LaFontaine, Famed Voice of Movie Trailers, 68 (1940-2008)

Jerry Reed, Singer-Actor, 71 (1937-2008)

Bill Melendez, Longtime 'Peanuts' Animator, 91 (1917-2008)

Don Haskins, Coach Who Helped Break Color Barriers, 78 (1930-2008)

Joey Giardello, Top Middleweight Champion Boxer, 78 (1930-2008)

Anita Page, Actress Who Starred in Early Talking Motion Pictures, 98 (1910-2008)

Doyle Parrack, Oklahoma Basketball Coach, 86 (1922-2008)

Don Gutteridge, Baseball Player & Managed the Chicago White Sox, 96 (1912-2008)

W. Deen Mohammed, Muslim Leader, 74 (1934-2008)

William Hand, Judge in School Prayer Case in 1971, 84 (1924-2008)

Eddie Crowder, Longtime Colorado Coach, 77 (1931-2008)

Nathan Gordon, WW II War Hero, 92 (1916-2008)

Gregory Mcdonald, Author of 'Fletch', 71 (1937-2008)

Ralph Plaisted, Led the First Expedition to the North Pole, 80 (1928-2008)

Sherrill Headrick, Ex-Dallas Texans & Kansas City Chiefs Linebacker, 71 (1937-2008)

Klaus J. Jacobs, Adecco Founder, Billionaire & Chocolatier, 71 (1936-2008)

Frank Mundus, Legendary Shark Hunter & Inspiration for 'Jaws', 82 (1925-2008)

Peter Camejo, Ralph Nader's VP Pick, 68 (1940-2008)

David Foster Wallace, Author, Wrote 'Infinite Jest', 46 (1962-2008)

Olin Stephens, Racing Yacht Designer, 100 (1908-2008)

Wonderful Smith, Comedian, 97 (1911-2008)

Richard Wright, Founding Member of Rock Group Pink Floyd, 65 (1943-2008)

Norman Whitfield, Motown Songwriter, 67 (1941-2008)

Earl Palmer, Famed Session Drummer, 84 (1924-2008)

Johnny Hayes, Al Gore Fundraiser, 67 (1941-2008)

Thomas Doerflein, German Zookeeper, 44 (1964-2008)

Wally Hilgenberg, Ex-Vikings Linebacker, 66 (1942-2008)

Nappy Brown, Gospel-Blues Singer, 78 (1929-2008)

John Taylor, Expert At National Archives of World War II, 87 (1921-2008)

Bill Leinenkugel, Led Family-Owned Brewery, 87 (1921-2008)

Hyman Golden, Snapple Co-Founder, 85 (1923-2008)

Dick Lynch, Football Icon,Played for NY Giants, 72 (1936-2008)

Mickey Vernon, Two-Time Batting Champion, 90 (1918-2008)

Miroslav Havel, Designer of Waterford Glass, 86 (1922-2008)

Thomas 'Bud' McDonald, Child Actor, 85 (1922-2008)

Tina Allen, Sculptor, 58 (1950-2008)

Evan Tanner, UFC Champion, 37 (1971-2008)

Leon Goldberg, Intercom Manufacturer, 84 (1924-2008)

Charlie Walker, Country Singer, 81 (1926-2008)

Paul Newman, Award-Winning Actor, 83 (1925-2008)

Osborn Elliott, Former Newsweek Editor, 83 (1925-2008)

Richard Zeidler, Ex-Brookhaven GOP Boss, 85 (1923-2008)

Jack Faulkner, NFL Executive With Rams & Coach for Denver Broncos, 82 (1926-2008)

John A. Stack, Veteran of World War II, 89 (1919-2008)

Oliver Crawford, Successful Writer for Television, 91 (1917-2008)

Stan Kann, Vacuum-Obsessed 'Tonight Show' Guest, 83 (1924-2008)

George 'Wydell' Jones, Wrote Doo-Wop Hit 'Rama Lama Ding Dong', 71 (1937-2008)

Teresa Heaney, Received College Degree At Age 60, 85 (1923-2008)

House Peters, TV Actor & One-Time Mr. Clean, 92 (1916-2008)

Nick Reynolds, Member of the Kingston Trio Folk Band, 75 (1933-2008)

Todd L. Kiplinger, Financial Publishing Executive, 62 (1946-2008)

Edsel D. Dunford, Aerospace Engineer & Satellite Designer, 73 (1935-2008)

Howard Munson, Longtime Federal Judge, 84 (1924-2008)

George Kissell, Former Coach for St. Louis Cardinals, 88 (1920-2008)

Nadia Nerina, Prima Ballerina, 80 (1928-2008)

Vincent Lee, Retired New York City Reporter, 74 (1934-2008)

Alfred Gallodoro, Musician Who Played With the Best, 95 (1913-2008)

Bruce Dal Canton, MLB Pitcher, 66 (1942-2008)

Mario Maya, Flamenco Pioneer, 71 (1937-2008)

David Lett, Pioneering Winemaker, 69 (1939-2008)

Eileen Herlie, Actress, Starred in 'All My Children', 90 (1918-2008)

Guillaume Depardieu, Son of French Film Star Gerard Depardieu, 37 (1971-2008)

William Claxton, Photographed Jazz Greats, 80 (1927-2008)

Gil Stratton, Actor & Longtime Sportscaster, 86 (1922-2008)

Alexei Cherepanov, Upcoming & Promising NY Ranger, 19 (1989-2008)

Roy K. Moore, Former FBI Agent, 94 (1914-2008)

Kevin Foster, Pitcher for Chicago Cubs & Philadelphia Phillies, 39 (1969-2008)

Neal Hefti, TV & Film Composer, Composed 1960s 'Batman' Theme Song, 85 (1923-2008)

Frank 'Lefty' Rosenthal, Infamous Casino Operator, 79 (1929-2008)

Chris Mims, Former NFL Player, Played for Chargers & Redskins, 38 (1970-2008)

Tom Tresh, Rookie of the Year As a Yankee, 71 (1937-2008)

Edie Adams, Broadway, Film & Television Actress, 81 (1927-2008)

Ed Turney, Co-Founder of Advanced Micro Devices Inc., 79 (1929-2008)

Jack Narz, Longtime Game Show Host, 85 (1923-2008)

George Keller, Chevron Corp. Chairman, Executive, 84 (1923-2008)

Levi Stubbs, Lead Singer of the Group The Four Tops, 72 (1936-2008)

Mr. Blackwell, Chief of Celebrity Fashion Police, 86 (1922-2008)

Gene Hickerson, Cleveland Browns Hall of Famer, 73 (1935-2008)

Dee Dee Warwick, Younger Sister of Dionne Warwick, 63 (1945-2008)

Sister Emmanuelle, Defender of the Poor, 99 (1908-2008)

Vincent McInerney, Lost Contentious 1958 D.A. Race, 93 (1915-2008)

Harry Mangurian, Former Owner of the Boston Celtics, 82 (1926-2008)

David H. Smith, Engineer on Apollo 13 Lunar Module, 64 (1944-2008)

Bernhardt 'Uncle Berns' Crystal, Mentor to Comic Billy Crystal, 92 (1915-2008)

Rhoda Amon, Longtime Newsday Writer & Reporter, 85 (1923-2008)

William Ketcham, Suffolk Sports Hall of Famer, 81 (1927-2008)

Eugene Selesner, Gifted Pianist, 83 (1925-2008)

Harold 'Hal' Kant, Longtime Grateful Dead Lawyer, 77 (1931-2008)

Merl Saunders, Jazz & Rock Keyboardist, 74 (1934-2008)

Jerome Silverman, World War II Pilot, 89 (1919-2008)

Tony Hillerman, Author, 83 (1925-2008)

Delmar Watson, Former Child Actor & Photographer, 82 (1926-2008)

Gerard Damiano, Director of Porn Classic 'Deep Throat', 80 (1928-2008)

Gerald Arpino, Founder of Joffrey Ballet, 85 (1923-2008)

Milton Katselas, Acting Coach to the Stars, 75 (1933-2008)

Pedro Pompilio, Soccer Official, 55 (1952-2008)

Estelle Reiner, Actress, Wife of Director Carl Reiner & Mother of Rob Reiner, 94 (1914-2008)

Louis 'Studs' Terkel, Author, Radio Host, Actor & Activist, 96 (1912-2008)

Doris Herzig, Journalist for Newsday, 87 (1921-2008)

William Wharton, Expressionist Painter & Novelist, 82 (1926-2008)

John Daly, Movie Producer, 71 (1937-2008)

Terence Tolbert, Led Obama Campaign in Nevada, 44 (1964-2008)

John Ripley, Retired Marine Colonel, 69 (1939-2008)

Yma Sumac, 'The Peruvian Songbird', 86 (1922-2008)

Cecil Stoughton, JFK White House Photographer, 88 (1920-2008)

Michael Crichton, Million-Selling Author, Created TV Series 'ER', 66 (1942-2008)

John Leonard, Literary & Cultural Critic, 69 (1931-2008)

Jimmy Carl Black, Original Drummer for Frank Zappa, 70 (1938-2008)

Bernard W. Rogers, Four-Star General, Led NATO, 87 (1921-2008)

Rosella Hightower, Ballet School Founder, 88 (1920-2008)

Neil Richard Deegan, Musician, Helped Build World Trade Center, 63 (1945-2008)

Miriam Makeba, South Africa's World-Renowned Songstress, 76 (1932-2008)

Herb Score, Pitcher for the Cleveland Indians, 75 (1933-2008)

Preacher Roe, Brooklyn Dodgers Legend, 93 (1915-2008)

Mitch Mitchell, Drummer, Played With Jimi Hendrix, 61 (1947-2008)

David Shayt, Smithsonian Curator, 56 (1952-2008)

Gerald Twohig, Newsday Editor, Served in World War II, 83 (1925-2008)

Fred Scott, Kiddie & Sci-Fi TV Pioneer, 88 (1920-2008)

Pete Newell, Basketball Coaching Great, 93 (1915-2008)

Adrian Kantrowitz, Doctor who Performed 1st Heart Transplant in U.S., 90 (1918-2008)

Clive Barnes, Longtime Theatre & Dance Critic, 81 (1927-2008)

Boris Fyodorov, Helped Foster Russian Reforms, 50 (1958-2008)

Carole Graebner, Tennis Champion, 65 (1943-2008)

Guy Peellaert, Belgian Painter & Collagist, 74 (1934-2008)

Irving Gertz, Hollywood Composer of Sci-Fi Films & Television, 93 (1915-2008)

Betty James, Co-Founded Slinky Company, 90 (1918-2008)

Eric 'MC' Breed, Rapper, 37 (1971-2008)

John Michael Hayes, Academy Award-Nominated Screenwriter, 89 (1919-2008)

Gerald Schoenfeld, Headed Shubert Theatres, 84 (1924-2008)

Ethel Bradley, Wife of LA Mayor Tom Bradley, 89 (1919-2008)

George C. Chesbro, Novelist, 68 (1940-2008)

Edna Parker, World's Oldest Person, 115 (1893-2008)

Andrew McKelvey, Founder of Monster Worldwide Inc., 74 (1934-2008)

Hugh A. Mulligan, Longtime AP Reporter, 83 (1925-2008)

Joseph Margiotta, Nassau GOP Leader & Power Broker, 81 (1927-2008)

John Murff, Mets Scout Who Discovered Nolan Ryan, 87 (1921-2008)

Jorn Utzon, Sydney Opera House Architect, 90 (1919-2008)

Verne Orr, Ex-Air Force Official, 92 (1916-2008)

Bill Drake, Pioneer Radio DJ of LA's 'Boss Radio', 71 (1937-2008)

William R. Finnegan, Producer of Film & Television, 80 (1928-2008)

Odetta, Popular Folk Music Icon, 77 (1930-2008)

Otto Spoerri, Powerhouse of the Oscars, 75 (1933-2008)

Ted Rogers, Media Mogul & Owner of Toronto Blue Jays, 75 (1933-2008)

Martha Fox, Newsday Retiree, 84 (1924-2008)

Paul Benedict, Actor, Best Known for 'The Jeffersons' Sitcom, 70 (1938-2008)

Forrest J. Ackerman, Actor & Bon Vivant, Coined the Term 'Sci-Fi', 92 (1916-2008)

Alexei II, Russian Orthodox Patriarch, 79 (1939-2008)

Thomas Orlando, 17-Year FDNY Veteran, 45 (1963-2008)

Beverly Garland, B-Movie & TV Actress, 82 (1926-2008)

George Morrison, Father of The Doors' Jim Morrison, 89 (1919-2008)

Robert Prosky, Prolific Actor, 77 (1930-2008)

William 'Mo' Marumoto, Aide To President Richard Nixon, 73 (1935-2008)

Nina Foch, Actress & Coach, 84 (1924-2008)

Elisabeth Lacey 'Liz' Donovan, Washington Post Researcher, 63 (1945-2008)

Betty J. Williams, Elte Pilot, 89 (1919-2008)

Chris 'Flash' Richardson, Harlem Globetrotter, 28 (1980-2008)

Dakota Culkin, Sister of Actor Macaulay Culkin, 29 (1979-2008)

Avery Dulles, Cardinal of Roman Catholicism, 90 (1918-2008)

Ron Carey, Former Teamsters President, 72 (1936-2008)

Van Johnson, Popular Movie Actor of 1940s & 1950s, 92 (1916-2008)

Robin Toner, New York Times Reporter, 54 (1954-2008)

Larry Devlin, Former CIA Agent, 86 (1922-2008)

Tassos Papadopoulos, Ex-Cypriot President, 74 (1934-2008)

Dorothy Sterling, Children's Author, 95 (1913-2008)

Robert Chandler, Executive At CBS Who Helped Start '60 Minutes', 80 (1928-2008)

Leon Febres Cordero, Led Ecuador, 77 (1931-2008)

Rhoda Amon, Newsday Staff Writer Honored By NY Senate, 85 (1923-2008)

Sammy Baugh, Legendary Redskins Passer, 94 (1914-2008)

Weta Clark, Former Newsday Editor, 44 (1964-2008)

Paul Weyrich, Right-Wing Activist, 66 (1942-2008)

Sam Bottoms, Actor, Starred In 'Apocalypse Now', 53 (1955-2008)

Majel Roddenberry, Widow of 'Star Trek' Creator Gene Roddenberry, 76 (1932-2008)

W. Mark Felt, Former FBI Agent, Watergate's 'Deep Throat', 95 (1915-2008)

Marguerite Gainey King, Roxy Dancer, 92 (1915-2008)

Ronald Lee 'Pete' Case, Played for Eagles & Giants in NFL, 67 (1941-2008)

Olga Lepeshinskaya, Famed Soviet Ballerina, 92 (1916-2008)

Rev. James L. Bevel, Top Aide to Martin Luther King Jr., 72 (1936-2008)

Adrian Mitchell, British Writer & Poet, 76 (1932-2008)

Robert Mulligan, Director of Film & Television, 83 (1925-2008)

Carlos Manuel Santiago, Negro League Star Player, 82 (1926-2008)

Coy Bacon, Former NFL All-Pro Rusher, 66 (1942-2008)

John Costelloe, Actor, Starred in 'The Sopranos', 47 (1961-2008)

Harold Pinter, Nobel-Winning English Writer & Playwright, 78 (1930-2008)

Eartha Kitt, Actress of Stage & Screen & Sultry Singer, 81 (1927-2008)

Dale Wasserman, Playwright, 94 (1914-2008)

Hillary Waught, Prolific Mystery Writer, 88 (1920-2008)

Alvah Chapman, Chairman of Knight Ridder Inc., 87 (1921-2008)

Robert Graham, Sculptor, Husband of Actress Anjelica Huston, 70 (1938-2008)

Delaney Bramlett, Singer, Songwriter & Producer, 69 (1939-2008)

Robert Ward, Blues Musician, 70 (1938-2008)

Ann Savage, Actress, Starred in 1945's 'Detour', 87 (1921-2008)

George Francis, Oldest American Man, 112 (1896-2008)

Freddie Hubbard, Grammy-Winning Jazz Musician, 70 (1938-2008)

Ellie Nelser, Vigilante Killer Mom in 1993, 56 (1952-2008)

Lark Previn, Daughter of Actress Mia Farrow, 35 (1973-2008)

Christine Maggiore, Challenged View On HIV-AIDS Link, 52 (1956-2008)

Victor Krulak, Marine Leader In Three Wars, 95 (1913-2008)

David Kagon, Lee Marvin 'Palimony' Attorney, 90 (1918-2008)

Ted Lapidus, Fashion Innovator, 79 (1929-2008)

Donald Westlake, Prolific Author of Mystery Novels, 75 (1933-2008)

Roy Saari, Gold Medal-Winning Olympic Swimmer, 63 (1945-2008)

Edward D. Cartier, Artist, Drew 'The Shadow' in 1930s & 1940s, 94 (1914-2008)

Alfred Shasheen, Designer & Manufactured Hawaiian Shirts, 86 (1922-2008)

William R. Glendon, Lawyer in Pentagon Paper Case, 89 (1919-2008)

_eH_


End file.
